


Dark Outside

by Bandity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Bullying, Credit scene has been ignored, Dissociation, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, It's me so someone is going to puke, Major injuries, Minor Injuries, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Psychosomatic pain, Self-Harm, Siderodromophobia, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Vomit, irregular eating habits, suicide discussion, unfortunately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bandity/pseuds/Bandity
Summary: Peter realizes he has been collecting trauma like souvenirs. He would very much like to ignore his newest found fear, but with trains barreling down tracks everywhere he goes, it doesn't seem possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came about while I was listening to the Into the Spider-verse soundtrack, during the song "Hide," to be exact. I'm a bit nervous to post because the fic isn't finished. It has large patches that need to be filled in, but I wanted to get this posted before school started up again at least. 
> 
> Also, this basically ignores the credit scene. No spidey identity reveal here. 
> 
> Please enjoy and excuse mistakes. Thank you!

He hadn't realized it was a problem, until he had hit the ground. 

He didn’t understand how he had gotten there. He had just been walking along with his friends, and then his backside was on the pavement and he was scrabbling back. The hair on his neck stood up and that familiar sense of danger shot through him. 

But instead of giving him a direction, a sense of where the danger was, it was everywhere. Surrounding, closing in. Suffocating.

A deep rumbling shot through him as the whistle blared. Alarms rang through his head and the ground shook to pieces underneath him.

"Peter, what's going on? What's wrong? What is it?"

_God. No. Don't talk, don’t touch me. Don't. Stop. _

Pain and darkness and blood and one wrong move and he would die. Slip underneath and be smashed to obliteration. Spread across the tracks and gone. 

"Wait, give him room."

"I'm giving him room, MJ!"

He scrabbled for purchase, the blood smearing along sleek metal. Too much blood on his hands and he was slipping. He needed to get to safety. 

The world crescendoed, all the rumbling and the cacophony reaching a height he couldn't take. 

He slammed his hands over his ears. He couldn't find safety and maybe he was going to die, but then at least the noise would stop.

His stomach lurched and then it all began to fade away. The ground settled, the world quieted.

Peter's heart pounded and the feeling of danger still stole away his breath. 

He wasn't dead, but maybe he was still dying because his chest hurt and there was no air.

"Breathe."

A command. Peter blinked hard. He recognized that voice. 

"Yeah, just breathe."

His friends. His best friends. 

Careful fingers danced along the inside of his wrist. A slight pressure that sent pain up his arm, taking his pulse.

The world stopped.

Peter breathed.

Great gasping breaths of a drowning man. 

The danger was fading, but the colors were still too bright, everything still assaulted his senses with a magnitude he couldn't describe. He shut his eyes, but the noise of his own breathing resounded in his ears. Hot saliva pooled in his mouth and acid burned up his throat. And MJ had used something strawberry scented for her hair and they all smelled like sweat from walking in the summer heat.

The heat. The sidewalk he was on had warmed in the sun and it burned his legs through his jeans. 

It was all too much and he shot up on his feet. Knocking away concerned hands. 

"I 'ave t'go." 

He ran.

He ran and ran until he couldn't hear his friend’s voices calling after him anymore. 

He slipped down an alleyway. 

Darker, quieter. Good.

He pulled his suit from his backpack and was changed in record time. 

With not a thought to where he was going, he climbed up the nearest wall. Up and up until he was above most of the noise and bright colors. 

Up, above everything, on the roof, he stilled and he waited.

The sun had begun to set and the world had begun to cool by the time he crept towards his building's edge and looked over. 

Down below, there were the train tracks. There was the sidewalk he had been walking with his friends when everything seemed to shatter to pieces. 

A train went by, thundering down the tracks. Peter felt it as it sent tremors through the ground, somehow shaking the building he had settled on. 

But he could manage it from a distance. It wasn't so bad from far away. 

He bit his lip and pulled in a breath through his nose. 

_ Don't be stupid. Don't be stupid. _

The train was gone, the ground still shook.

_ You're not afraid of trains. _

Another one was on its way. Too far to see, but he could feel it shaking the ground all the same.

Peter bit through his lip.

* * *

"Edith," Peter whispered in the dark. He had eventually found his way home and managed to pull his suit off before crawling into bed. May was out, maybe working, maybe with Happy, he couldn't remember. 

He had reached out from within his blanket cocoon and hesitated. Phone or glasses? His friends probably had been texting, maybe calling; he should respond.

Peter grabbed the glasses and pushed them onto his face before burying himself in blankets once again. 

"Hello, Peter." Edith sounded quieter than usual, maybe she had read something in him. 

"Is everything here real right now?" Peter felt his voice waver and it made his cheeks color in embarrassment. He felt dumb for having to ask, but he needed to know.

There was a brief moment of hesitation before the answer came. 

"Yes." 

Peter breathed out.

"You appear to be bleeding, do you require further assistance?"

"No, no, I'm good. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Peter still tasted blood in his mouth, but, even though it hurt, he was pretty sure he would be fine in a day or so. He still had time before school started up again, so he didn't have to worry about making an excuse for an injury for teachers or classmates.

"Edith, you'll let me know if anything… is not okay, right?"

Another brief pause.

"Yes, Peter."

Peter breathed. The air stung his lip as he dragged it in. The displayed readings in the glasses dimmed automatically and Peter let his eyes shut, content with the slight weight pressing into the bridge of his nose.

* * *

"Oh, Peter."

He didn't know why his aunt sounded so exasperated until she had wet a dish cloth in their kitchen sink and was wiping at his chin. 

The wound had mostly healed, but enhanced healing didn't clear away the dried blood still smeared across his face. 

"I thought you weren't going to patrol last night. I thought you and your friends were going out to eat."

She sounded calm, but the words sat heavily in the air between them. He had promised to tell her when he was out patrolling.

Waking up with a freshly healed busted up lip made it look like he was breaking promises. 

"I didn't, I just…" He trailed off. He had promised not to lie as well. "Swung home. Bit my lip by accident."

"With your super strong teeth?" May sighed, but she forced a worried smile. 

"Yeah," Peter tried to smile back. He couldn't do it without pulling on his freshly sealed cut. 

He took the cloth from her and proceeded to wipe at his own face. May's hands landed on his shoulders with a squeeze. She took in a deep breath and held it for a beat. 

"Okay," She turned away towards the kitchen sink. "Help me make breakfast in a bit?"

Peter nodded, eager for the distraction.

* * *

28 new texts and 6 missed calls. 

He put the phone face down on his mattress. Avoiding wasn't going to help. 

_ Breathe. _

"Okay," Peter dragged air in and picked his phone back up. 

It was a lot of asking what was going on and please let them know he's okay. The last message had come in early that morning. 

**MJ**: Text 1 if you're dead, 2 if you're still alive.

**Peter**: 2

Peter ran fingers through his hair as he let out a hollow laugh. His phone buzzed in his hand, startling him.

**MJ**: Do you want to talk about it? 1 for yes, 2 for not right now.

**Peter**: 2. I'm sorry about what happened. I'm alright.

No need to talk about it at all.

There was a long pause before the next text came in.

**MJ**: Text Ned too. I'll see you soon.

He sent off another text to his best friend. Brief, reassuring and apologetic. 

He turned his phone to silent and set it face down on his mattress before climbing back underneath his comforter. 

He grabbed the glasses from where he had stored them underneath his pillow and slipped them onto his face. With his blanket over his head, he squinted, preparing for Edith’s blue light that always filled the frames. 

"Edith?" Readouts appeared in front of his eyes, scanning the room, bringing up his own profile picture. Letting him know he had just received a text on his phone. He ignored that for now. 

"Yes, Peter?"

Peter wrung his hands together, scratching the skin along his fingers. He tapped his knuckles against each other. 

"Am I okay?"

Edith didn’t need to pause. Peter imagined she was able to process nearly everything in milliseconds. But there were times Peter swore she would _ hesitate _. Maybe Mr. Stark had made her that way; to emulate more natural conversation. 

Maybe Peter just wasn’t good at communicating with her. 

“Peter, how can I assist you?” She sounded slower, quieter, the lights blinking in his eyes dimmed, most of the readouts were cleared away, instead replaced with numbers that Peter realized was his heart rate. It didn’t look abnormal. 

“I don’t know if you can- sorry, just keep the heart rate up for now. That’s fine.”

“Of course.” Edith went quiet after that. Peter stared at the numbers until his eyes blurred and he slipped into sleep once more.

* * *

Peter told May he wasn’t feeling well and she didn’t press him. 

After his school trip, he had stayed home for days, sleeping in and watching horrible reality shows with May late into the night. Even with his healing factor, he had still been injured when he got home, he had still been in pain. Happy had him looked over, bringing in one of Tony’s doctors to assess him. A quiet professional woman who had been sworn to secrecy long ago. Happy had suggested he take a vacation to get over his vacation and he looked as though he wanted to invite him and May to go away somewhere, but May had suggested staying home and Peter agreed. 

He had been so tired. 

And now, with only a little over a week left before classes started up again, he was exhausted once more. 

He didn’t know how long he could hide away, before his Aunt got too worried. Hopefully, just a day. He just needed a day to rest and then he could go back outside, enjoy time with his friends. Once he got some rest he could clamp down on any weird reactions he had. He had been through so much and he wasn’t going to let one incident with a train bother him. This wasn't going to be a part of him, he wasn't going to let it.

He just needed a few days. And then he would be fine. 

Everything was going to be _ fine _.

* * *

Peter didn't know what his definition of "fine" was anymore. 

He had been swinging to places or Happy had been driving him. He didn't take the subway. Why would he? He had an easier way to get around. No need to take the subway anywhere.

He still had a few days before school started up again, when he had gone out patrolling and gone too far. He had been trying to find the highest building to sit and pass his time. He had already stopped a mugging, probably using more webs than he should have, and by the time he was ready to head home, he realized he was low on webbing. 

He briefly wondered if he could take the subway as Spiderman when, with a stomach dropping jolt, he realized he didn't want to. 

Not even that he didn't want to, but the idea of it made his heart race. The harder he tried to convince himself to move, the more firmly planted his feet became to the rooftop ledge. 

Well, he wasn't _ too _low on webbing. If he timed it right, if he stretched out his strands, maybe he could just make it back to his neighborhood at least. 

Not giving his heart rate time to slow, Peter leapt from his perch and began his journey home. 

His heart continued to pound in his chest and his mouth felt too dry. 

His hand slipped minutely, but not enough to cause concern. 

Now that his heart had got going, it seemed to kick his other senses into overdrive. 

Cars rumbled and honked, people called and shouted and laughed. The trains barreled down their tracks. He couldn't see them, but they whistled and made the ground tremble. The buildings shook, Peter could feel the vibration through the webs, through his shaking hands.

He slipped.

Webbing shot out at nothing but air and, for a moment, he was angry that he had wasted it, before he became terrified that he wasn't catching himself.

He attempted a desperate shot that stuck to an old billboard that ripped upon taking his weight.

He thought he would scream, but he didn't have the air in his lungs to force the sound out anyway. 

He dipped lower and turned, allowing his hip to take the damage when he crashed into the side of a building.

Out of breath and stunned, he dropped to the ground, landing on his back and letting out a soft grunt. 

Not his best recovery or landing.

Pain flared up his side and it was just similar enough to back then that his faculties failed him.

He couldn't breathe and his heart was racing while his stomach launched acid up his throat. 

Laying on the ground, half way in an alley, Peter couldn't help the strangled noise that escaped him. 

_ Don't cry don't cry don't cry. _

The ground hummed beneath him and a train rumbled through his head. 

Peter shoved his mask up, exposing his mouth, avoiding smothering himself if he did throw up.

Time ticked by. Peter could feel it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself back enough to get up and walk home. 

The other option was calling someone to come get him.

Just like before. 

He messed up, he needed a ride. 

Stubborn, Peter forced his feet underneath him. 

He was shuddering and he couldn't get it to stop. He thought his legs were going to give out.

He hadn't designed this suit with an AI system and he found he missed Karen, maybe she could have distracted him, make him think about something else besides the pain shooting up his side. 

By morning, it would be healed. Nothing to worry about. 

Peter bit his lip and limped home.

* * *

He woke up sore and with a splitting headache. Edith was displaying his vitals, burning them into his retinas. He didn't even remember putting the glasses on before crawling into bed. He must have been out of it.

"Everythin' real?" He slurred. 

"Yes." Edith's answer seemed too short, as though she was cutting herself off from saying more. 

"Everything okay?" He mumbled, turning his head into his pillow, not caring how the glasses pressed into his face.

"Peter, what specific information do you require?"

Peter sighed. "Just, I'm okay? Nothing unusual is going on?"

"May Parker is at work, you have 4 unread text messages and the contusions you obtained are healed." There was a brief pause, perhaps she was waiting for feedback. "Do you wish to contact anyone?"

"No."

"If you would like a more thorough assessment of your wellbeing, I recommend you contact someone."

"No, I'm okay. I can handle things."

"It is currently 12pm and you have been asleep for 14 hours."

Peter frowned. He didn't know if Edith was just reporting or if she was suggesting that he was obviously not handling things. 

Peter sat up in bed. "Alright, I'm up."

He couldn't sit around moping. It didn't matter how he felt, he needed to fix himself. He would make it okay. 

"Edith?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Can you help me with something?"

* * *

Peter pushed the glasses further up on his nose. He fidgeted with them, getting them to sit just right. 

He was ignoring the way the summer sun beat down on him, how uncomfortable it was with his long sleeve button down. 

But he needed the long sleeves to hide his web shooters. They looked enough like bracelets, but he still didn't want them to be exposed. His suit was in his backpack, surprisingly heavy, but comforting in a way. Peter adjusted the straps on his shoulders. He shuffled forward carefully, ignoring the throbbing in his hip.

It was going to be okay. He would make it okay again.

Edith displayed his heart rate across his lens. 

He'd gone back to the location where he'd first freaked out with Ned and MJ. Not a panic attack. He didn't want to give it that label. It was just his senses getting screwed up again. He needed to calibrate. 

The tracks lay in front of him, glinting in the sun. The crossing arms didn't come down as he approached. No train was coming yet.

"Peter, you have 21 minutes."

"Thank you," he breathed out. 

"Shall I display a timer?"

"No, no." All he needed was some horrible countdown staring him in the face, setting him on edge. "Just a reminder every four minutes, please."

"Understood."

Peter inched along the sidewalk, past the place he had fallen, past the place he had scrambled backwards creating scrapes on his palms that had healed within the day. 

He walked past all of it. Until he stood at the edge, his shoes inches from that first strip of glinting metal.

A memory of Beck and an apology went skittering across his mind and he pushed it away. 

_ Don't think don't think don't think. _

Pain was shooting up his side now, making the hair on his arm stand up. 

"Time?" He managed to choke out weakly.

"18 minutes."

"This is real." A brief pause, he wasn't being clear, it didn't sound like a question.

"Yes, Peter."

His shoe brushed metal. The steady vibration sent a tremor through his body. 

_The train is coming. _

_The train is coming._

Peter made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. 

"17 minutes, Peter. Shall I begin the discussed distraction protocol?"

Peter nodded and hoped Edith registered it.

Edith started talking. She was quieter than usual, a touch slower than her regular pace. 

"It is 2:12pm. You have three new text messages and one missed call. The temperature outside today is 99 degrees fahrenheit. A heatwave is suspected to hit in the next three days…"

Peter was standing with one foot on the rail and everything inside him screamed. He forced out a shaky breath and felt his throat close around the inhale.

_ Move your foot_, he demanded. _ Move your stupid foot. _

_You look ridiculous, someone's going to think you have a death wish, just walk across. _

Edith faded away and all he could hear was his heart thundering in his ears. The ground shook, it rattled his joints, caused pain to blossom everywhere. 

_ Don't get pulled under, don't get smashed apart. Pull yourself up. _

"5 minutes, Peter." 

What had happened to his time? He'd been standing there, not really breathing for several minutes, he should have passed out by now. Peter glanced down the railway, he couldn't see it, but he felt it. 

His stomach lurched. 

"Peter, if you are unable to move, I will be forced to contact someone."

Because he was standing on train tracks and of course Edith had some sort of imminent danger protocol. 

He wondered who could even get here in five minutes. Not Aunt May, not Happy, not his friends. Mr. Stark probably could have or at least one of his suits could have. Not that it was an option. 

Peter wondered if he was going to throw up.

"Peter, while it does not meet your objective, if you are unable to cross, I suggest moving backwards." 

Not forward, but back. 

He let the feeling of danger take over. That horrible sensation shot up his spine and dialed his senses up further.

As if shocked, he jerked his foot from the metal. He could still feel the trembling. The train would be there soon. He could hear it, feel it shaking apart his core. 

Peter ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do leave a comment. This is my first time in this fandom and I appreciate comments. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of an odd in between kind of chapter. But lots of people are trying their best to help. Thank you to everyone who read and commented, I greatly appreciated it!
> 
> Please excuse mistakes and enjoy!

It was getting dark outside when he finally came back to himself. 

Edith was talking to him, giving him his heart rate, telling him to take deeper, slower breaths, constantly telling him what was real; the temperature, the roof he was on, the darkening sky above him... 

He forced out an apology for her. She definitely hadn’t been designed to be a babysitting program, but she seemed to be learning, filling the role he needed her to. 

It was probably pathetic. 

Peter rolled onto his side, grimacing at the way his hip complained. 

“Edith, am I hurt?”

“You do not appear to be.”

“It really hurts though.” Peter rubbed gently at his side. Edith stayed quiet at that, having nothing to add, he supposed. 

Feeling a little steadier, he pushed himself up and gingerly limped to the building’s edge. He was supposed to be home for dinner tonight, but he knew he was late.

“Peter, you have 4 missed calls.”

Peter groaned. May was going to kill him.

* * *

Not seeing the point in sneaking in through his window, Peter went directly to the front door. His suit, heavy in his backpack, wasn't as comforting as it usually was. He rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the ache there. 

He could hear two voices talking in the apartment before his knocking sent them both into silence. 

The door snapped open. May was livid. She shook her head, before pulling in a deep breath and walking away from the door.

"He's here. You should go."

"I can stay-"

"No, it's fine."

Peter hovered outside the door. It hadn't been planned for Happy to come over, which meant he must have shown up when Peter didn't come home. 

Peter waited until Happy was walking past him.

"Are you alright?" Happy had stopped in front of him. Peter blinked, licked his lips.

"Edith?" His voice was not shaking, he was just tired.

"This is real." Edith had become accustomed to his paranoia now, it was soothing and depressing in a way. 

"I'm okay." 

Happy pulled in a deep breath, he looked as though he wanted to say something, but in the end, he shook his head and muttered something about checking in later.

"Good luck," Happy called as he moved down the hall. 

With a deep breath, Peter entered the apartment. May was pacing, breathing shakily, angry and upset and so worried.

"Happy can track your phone. Your phone, not you. So I don't know if you're safe or not. Especially, if the phone is inside some building for hours, not moving."

"I was on the roof. Not inside of it," Peter mumbled. 

May sucked in another deep breath. 

"We've talked about this. We have an agreement. You check in. You answer my calls, unless you are in danger and you can't."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Just," May threw her hands out in front of her, "what is going on?"

"I was just tired. I fell asleep on the building. I wasn't even patrolling May, I swear."

"Peter, no, something is up. I know you're tired, I can hear you talking to those glasses in the middle of the night. Just talk to me. Tell me what's going on and we'll figure it out."

"I'm fine." 

"Peter…"

"I'm fine!" He was not even looking at her anymore, he was staring at his feet and he was starting to shake. "I'm sorry." Peter felt his eyes beginning to water and he couldn't be around anyone for another minute. He made a beeline for his room.

“Are you hurt?” She had started to follow him.

“No, I-”

“You’re limping.”

“I’m not!" 

Peter slammed his door. 

In his whole life, he had never slammed a door on May before. It made him feel sick and detached and he just wanted everything to stop. 

He kicked off his shoes and dove under his comforter. His webshooters were uncomfortable on his wrists, but he would rather keep them close. The glasses pressed into his skin, but he couldn’t get rid of Edith either. He needed her to monitor everything, to tell him what was real and what wasn’t.

May was at his door, speaking quietly, but his loud breathing drowned out her individual words. She stepped away after awhile and Peter thought he heard her taking big, hitching breaths. She never liked crying in front of him.

He was messing things up. He knew it. He wrapped his blanket more tightly around himself, trying to stop the guilt and anxiety from building in his chest. He just needed to be alone for a minute and then he would set things right.

Peter shuddered, a distant cold feeling settling in his bones. He hadn’t been sick since he had become Spiderman, but it may have still been possible. Spiders could still get sick after all, they just usually died before they could recover, preyed upon or starved to death, unable to fend for themselves.

Just a minute. He just needed another minute for the shaking to stop... 

Peter eventually fell asleep with Edith reporting data into his ear. 

* * *

It had been a nightmare. Something terrible and loud that sent him hurtling from his bed and to the bathroom. 

He was pretty sure he'd had spiders crawling up his neck and he swiped at the fading sensation before he finally puked in the general direction of the toilet. He collapsed to his knees and heaved up bile. He was dimly aware that he hadn't really been eating, which meant his blood sugar was probably low and he was screwing up his system. Peter slapped a hand over his eyes, keeping Edith from slipping off his nose. The edges of his world blurred out as he heaved so hard he thought he was going to rip apart his esophagus. He thought he heard Edith repeating something, but the static in his head drowned her out. 

There were hands on him.

Peter jolted to the side, colliding with their shower door. 

He cracked the glass.

"Honey, no no no. It's me. It's me." May reached for him again, but she stopped short.

Peter let out a low keening sound, words failing him. His eyes were glazed over and he was shaking so hard that the glasses he was always wearing began to slip. May could hear the quietest voice speaking. It took her a moment to realize that the voice was repeating the same phrase over and over. 

_Peter, this is real. Peter, this is real._

"Sweetie, can you look at me?" 

Peter was biting his lip again. 

"Peter, you have to relax your jaw. Please don't hurt yourself. Try to breathe."

There was a tense moment of silence and then something seemed to click into place. Peter took a desperate gasping breath and blinked hard.

"I'm okay," Peter managed before he was thrown into a coughing fit that left him choking into the toilet bowl once more. 

May reached out, placing a hand along his spine. 

"You're alright. You're alright." She swept sweat soaked hair off his forehead. She rubbed his back, waiting out his bout of vomiting. Fortunately, it didn't last too much longer. 

Peter groaned before he slumped against her, utterly spent, but breathing. May could hear that voice again, encouraging Peter to breathe. 

"Peter," May wrapped an arm around his shaking form. "I love you. No matter what… you know I love you, right?"

Peter swallowed before his voice broke through.

"Sorry, I woke you up," he rasped.

"Well," May sighed into his hair, "your glasses called me."

"Edith… called you?" 

"From your number, yes. She said you needed assistance." 

May used a small hand towel to wipe vomit off his chin. Something inside him crumpled apart at the action. 

"I'm so sorry, May. I'm so sorry." Despite his best effort, tears slipped down his cheeks.

She wrapped her other arm around him and held him tightly. 

"It's okay. It's okay."

Peter wanted to tell her it really wasn't, but he couldn't find the strength to get the words out.

* * *

He was curled up on the couch and May was running her fingers through his hair, which, on a bad sensory day, would probably be irritating, but in the moment, he just felt warm. They had been sitting there all night. May had called in sick to work which had made Peter feel guilty, but she said told him there wasn't anywhere else she'd rather be. 

At his insistence, the glasses stayed on and, when he had asked May, she gave him a whole life time of stories of things that only she would know. She told him everything about their lives. Favorite stories from when he was little to the terrifying moments when Peter got sick or hurt. And there was more.

"I didn't tell you." May took a deep breath. "When I came back after the blip and I found out what had happened, I was so worried.”

Peter shifted. He wanted to tell her that he knew she was worried. She worried about him all the time. He understood why. Before he could make any kind of remark, she continued. 

“I was so worried that I had disappeared and that you had been left alone. I kept thinking how awful it must have been. I promised I wouldn't leave you and I thought I had broken that promise."

He remembered that promise. She had made it twice; once, after his parents and then again, after Ben. 

Peter felt like he might start crying once more, but May's voice was steady and she was warm and familiar and _there_. 

"I think I had a panic attack." Peter didn’t mean to just say it, but the words burst out of him, too loud and desperate for understanding. "Felt like before. Like I might die." He bit down on his lip.

May's fingers stopped in his hair and she took several deep breaths. Peter mirrored her, feeling air hit his lungs. He felt like he hadn't been able to catch his breath for days. 

She gently tapped his chin. "Don't hurt yourself again."

Later on, when he would look back, he really didn’t know why it was that moment that tipped him over the edge and started him sobbing. But May talked quietly to him and he could hear her own voice wavering, but she stayed close and the nightmares left him alone for the rest of the day.

* * *

"I don't feel like going to school."

"We can arrange something, if that's what you want. You can take some more time."

"No, I think I should go, but I just don't _feel_ like going."

"Alright." May was making a salad to go with the pizza they had ordered, but she stopped and looked at Peter. Really looked at him. They had spent a few days at home. Recharging, May had called it, but she knew she would have to go back to work soon.

"I think you should talk to your friends. I think they would help you feel more comfortable and they can help you if you have a panic attack during class."

Peter grimaced at the term. May still didn't know the details, she didn't know what triggered them. Earlier that day she'd had a trusted doctor come by the apartment, something Happy had arranged for him. Edith had vouched for the physician, bringing up credentials and promises that this individual was trustworthy and real. 

Peter's hip showed no sign of injury, it wasn't even bruised anymore. They theorized that being injured was a shock to his system and, while everything healed so fast, maybe his mind wasn't quite catching up. 

The pain was in his head.

But God, it still hurt. 

They had been given a recommendation for a therapist. But Peter didn't want to be alone around a stranger. Strangers couldn't tell you something that only they would know. 

"I'll text Ned and MJ." 

May hummed in approval and went back to the salad. Soon they'd be sitting down to dinner and it would be so normal, he could forget for a little while the things that were threatening to collapse down on him. 

* * *

Ned and MJ had both been relieved to get his texts that night. He had apologized, told them something was going on with his head. Ned had told him it was no problem. MJ had told him 'obviously.' Peter cocooned himself in his comforter and had Edith call her for him. They had a quiet conversation about what had happened.

"It's PTSD and it's not that surprising, Peter."

"I don't think it's that. It's not that bad, it's just the trains…" Peter trailed off, his courage failing him, he tried not to think about how he was currently hiding under a blanket with Edith as a nightlight.

MJ sighed on the other line. "If that's what you need to tell yourself."

Peter stuttered, but she didn't give him time for another excuse. 

"Look, I was there the other day. I saw you. And, okay, I don't care if you're brain is a little bit- well, if you're scared. I know you're trying really hard. So… it's okay." 

Peter could feel his eyes watering and he sniffed too loudly before trying to cover it up with a cough. 

"Do you want to hang out before school starts?" He blurted it out without thinking and he wasn't sure if he meant it as a date or not.

"Yeah, we can do that." 

Peter smiled. He was relieved to have something to look forward to. Something close to normal.

* * *

It was sort of a date. Sort of an experiment. 

They had eaten lunch and after, before he could think better of it, he had asked her if she could help him out. He had thought, if he knew it was going to happen and if MJ knew and was there to offer support, he could get across the tracks.

"Would it help if I crossed first?"

Because Peter had been standing there on the sidewalk completely silent for a full five minutes. Edith even stayed quiet, though she displayed his increasing heart rate in the corner of his frames. 

Peter ran his fingers over his web shooters. Just making sure they were still there under his sleeves. He was glad MJ hadn't mentioned anything about the long sleeves, even though it was hot and the sun was beating down on them both. 

"I don't know," Peter answered honestly. He was mentally kicking himself. Why had he thought it would be easier with someone with him?

"Do you want to try together?" And MJ held her hand palm up, near his face. He nodded. 

He liked holding MJ's hand. It was nice and he usually enjoyed the contact. When he grabbed her hand now though, all he could think was that he was sweating too much for this to be pleasant. At least, MJ didn't seem to mind. 

"Count of three?" She asked. He nodded again and he let her count down slowly. He pulled in a breath at three and threw his foot forward. With uneven steps he made it to the tracks.

He made it over the first strip of metal and froze.

Convulsively, he dropped MJ's hand. Because he felt like something slipped out of place and he couldn't tell how hard he was grasping her fingers. He wouldn't forgive himself if he hurt someone he cared about. 

"Peter, you still there?" She asked.

He meant to nod. He wanted to nod. But he guessed he just stood there. Edith flickered to life. She didn't say anything, but a box with text appeared. 

_There are no illusions._

"Peter, it's okay. You're okay." 

There was pain in his mouth and the taste of blood on his tongue and it was like before when his lungs hurt and that copper taste had bubbled up his trachea and pain shot up his side. 

"One step. Try one step. Left foot, okay?"

It would hurt, but he needed to move. He had to get to safety, he had to try. He couldn't fall under the train. He wouldn't survive if he slipped.

Though maybe he would live, partially smeared across the tracks in pieces, what if somehow his body kept going and he lived?

Would he even want to anymore?

The left foot shuffled forward, dragging gravel under his sole. 

"Yes! Okay, right foot now." 

It hurt it hurt it hurt.

There was something wet dripping down his chin. He could feel it making trails on his skin. 

His shirt collar was being pulled up and he felt the rough fabric awkwardly scratch across his chin, wiping away the blood and spit that was there. 

"Left foot." But now MJ sounded distant, detached.

He was scaring her. 

_Move your stupid feet._

Left, right, left right left right

MJ had grabbed his sleeve and she pulled him along as she walked backwards, over the tracks and to the sidewalk on the other side. 

"You did it, we're there." MJ was out of breath, as though she had been running.

"Peter, your objective is complete." Edith finally spoke. "Breathe in and out."

Numbers danced across his eyes. He wasn't taking in enough oxygen.

With a jolt, Peter gasped for breath and slammed his hands down to his kneecaps. He hunched over and spat blood on the concrete. He choked on an apology. 

"It's okay," MJ mumbled, but she wasn't looking at him. She seemed to be elsewhere, lost in thought.

Peter managed to pull himself together enough to stand up straight. 

"We should go," he gasped. Edith was displaying a countdown in the corner of his glasses. A train was coming.

They walked along in silence for several minutes, until Peter got the nerve to speak up.

"I'm sorry hanging out with me sucks. Probably, not what you would imagine when you started dating Spiderman."

They were still kind of a new thing, so talking about dating felt weird, but it didn't seem wrong.

MJ scoffed and he knew she was rolling her eyes without looking at her. 

"I don't imagine I'm dating Spiderman. Pretty sure I'm dating Peter Parker."

He smiled softly and tried to keep his face from turning red. Peter didn't take her hand. He still felt jittery and he didn't trust his own strength in the moment, but they stayed close; shoulders bumping every time he took a deep breath.

And he walked her home.

* * *

"Maybe a muted video would work?" 

Peter stared up at his ceiling, thinking. 

"Yeah," he finally croaked out after too much time had passed and Ned was starting to think he wasn't going to answer at all.

They were in Peter's room on the last night before school started up again. Ned was in his desk chair while he was on his bed, fighting the urge to curl up under the comforter.

At Peter's insistence, May had gone out with Happy, leaving just Ned and him in the apartment. 

May hadn't gone anywhere in days and Peter knew it was because of him. He didn't want her staying so close on his behalf, but she worried about him staying alone. So Ned had come over and Peter insisted they would be fine. 

And they were fine. 

Ned had offered to help him get over his new phobia, claiming it was his duty as first friend of Spiderman and his guy in the chair. Ned swung his laptop over into Peter's hands, a video already queued up. 

"Edith?" Peter questioned automatically.

"Real," she chimed without hesitation. Over the past few days, Peter had noticed that Edith had become less formal with him, anticipating what he was going to ask. He thought she must have been programmed to learn and adapt. But Peter may have also been just that predictable. 

Peter pressed play and muted footage of a train going by filled the screen. 

A crawling sensation went up his neck, but nothing more.

This was okay. His displayed heart rate only increased for a moment before it became regular again. 

He played the short clip again. Nothing changed at all. He was calm.

He played it again.

Okay, maybe not completely calm, but it was certainly a manageable level of anxiousness. 

"You want to try sound?" Ned looked unsure, he couldn't gauge Peter's reaction. The last time Peter had freaked out on him, he had seemed fine one moment and then the next he had been crying on the sidewalk. 

"Yeah," Peter responded before he could change his mind. Ned took the laptop from his friend, once he had made the appropriate adjustments, he sat down next to Peter on the bed, hesitated for a brief moment and then hit play.

* * *

Peter wasn't gone, but he didn't feel all there either. 

Ned had played several clips for him and he was absolutely fine.

Until he wasn't.

The last clip that had been playing was stopped suddenly. Not by Peter or Ned, but by Edith. 

Because Peter's heart rate had jumped and he hadn't answered when she tried to talk to him. So Edith commandeered the laptop, stopping the video and making the screen go blank.

"I'm so sorry!" Ned apologized for the millionth time. "You didn't say anything, but I should have realized."

Peter wanted to wave off the apology, but he had wrapped himself in his comforter and had cocooned himself very securely. It was dark, muffled and warm. Peter could stave off the panic attack this way. 

"Not your fault," Peter managed to mumble. 

He felt Ned shift on the bed, the mattress dipping as he scooted closer to Peter. Ned didn't say anything else, but Peter could feel the warmth of his presence. Ned wasn't May, but he was familiar and a safe person. 

They stayed that way until Edith eventually interrupted the silence.

"May Parker's ETA is seven minutes." 

Peter managed to poke his head out from the comforter. 

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, but didn't feel like he had the energy to sit up all the way. He always felt so tired after his... episodes. It wasn't fair.

"You alright?" Ned asked, offering his hand. Peter reached out and let Ned pull him into a full sitting position. They did their regular handshake and it was slower than usual, but at least he had stopped shaking. 

"School tomorrow?" Ned tapped away at his laptop, trying to be casual.

Peter swallowed down his nausea. 

"Yeah." 

Ned pulled up YouTube again and they wasted their last few minutes away, watching clips from a random wildlife documentary.

* * *

Ned saw himself out after May and Happy arrived home. Peter heard May asking Ned about his family, about school, about ordinary things. And then there was a pause.

"Is he doing okay?" 

Peter shook his head and sunk back into his blanket. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, sometimes his hearing was just too good. Peter didn't quite catch Ned's response, but it didn't sound completely positive.

Peter knew he should get up, prove to them all that he was fine, but he just felt so drained and stuck. 

He didn't look up when the door to his room opened. 

"I'm okay, May. Just tired."

"You're not really a good liar, you know that, right?" Exasperated and way too deep a voice to be May.

"Happy." Peter breathed out, startled. The familiar face hovered above him. Happy was studying him and Peter ran his fingers through his hair subconsciously. He straightened the glasses more firmly onto his face.

"You ever take those off?" Happy made a motion at his own eyes. Peter blinked. He was going to say that of course he did, but thinking back, he had been falling asleep with them on the past several nights.

"I do when I'm Spiderman." Not that he had been patrolling much lately, but the glasses stayed home on those nights. 

Happy was frowning at him, but then he shrugged and his expression smoothed out 

"I'm going to drive you to school tomorrow," he finally said. 

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"No, I'm going to do it. It's a done deal." Happy clapped his hands as though the action settled it. 

He felt like Happy had a million other things he could be doing. Peter had just been planning to walk to school. The subway was out of the question and he didn't want to swing to school as Spiderman, worried he would end up giving his identity away after everything that had happened over the summer. He didn't want to impose, but if Happy insisted...

"Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the comments and encouragement. I've had this chapter written for a few days, but when I went back to proofread I felt like it could be improved, so a lot of parts got a pretty intense rewrite. Anyway, please enjoy some more hurt/comfort spiderman stuff. Thank you!

He was limping in the morning and it didn't matter how many times he told himself it was in his head, it still hurt.

May didn't comment on the limp, but she had to run out to work. Judging by the pointed look she gave him, Peter figured they'd be talking more about it later. 

Happy didn't comment either, but he raised his eyebrows as Peter hobbled to the car. Peter waved him off when he went to open the door for him. Peter was a capable person, he could get his own door at least. 

Even though Happy had been the one to insist on driving, the man looked tired. When Peter climbed into the passenger side, he noticed the kid's booster seat in the back.

"You picking up Morgan today?" Peter was trying to seem casual, but he felt guilty, making Happy drive all over the place when Morgan needed support. She was just a little kid after all. 

"Yeah, we're going out for burgers and ice cream. Treat before she starts up school."

Peter wanted to ask how she was doing, but the question got stuck in his throat. He ran his fingers over his webshooters, he was still wearing a long sleeve shirt to avoid suspicion, even though it was still incredibly hot out. The glasses were hooked onto his shirt pocket, he was not wearing them. Stubbornly trying to prove that he didn't need Edith all the time. 

A weird urge to ask more questions ran through him. Not because it was polite to carry the conversation, but because he wanted more information. To know things to prove Happy was who he said he was.

A ball of anxiety settled in his gut and he let it eat up his insides. 

He couldn't ask Edith, he couldn't drill Happy every time they met, he couldn't keep acting so weird.

_Be normal._

Pain shot up his hip.

Rebellion. His body and mind were both rebelling on him. 

"You should come up and visit. Morgan would like it. Harley uses the garage sometimes, but it's usually empty."

He had met Harley exactly once. At the funeral. And it felt a bit like finding out he had an older sibling he knew nothing about. Well, slightly younger before the Blip, but older than him now. 

He hadn't been a secret, but Peter had never known. Tony hadn't mentioned him. Even though Harley had something of a Stark internship too. 

"He'd let me blow stuff up in his lab. I guess when you weren't around," Harley had said with a shrug when they met. 

Peter glanced sideways at Happy.

He looked calm, but there was that undercurrent of loss that ran under everything whenever Tony was nearly mentioned. 

It must be hard to spend so much of your free time chasing around the kids that Tony Stark left behind. 

"I could come up for a visit. Sounds good." Peter felt sick at the idea, but he knew the feeling would pass. 

Happy smiled. "It's a plan then."

Peter forced a smile onto his face.

_ This is real. This is real. _

* * *

To Peter's relief, school was surprisingly normal and kind of boring actually.

He had been limping right after the school trip, so most of his classmates just figured he'd messed up his leg at some point and it was still healing. 

Ned and MJ kept looking at him, but they didn't bring anything up during school. He was grateful, he just wanted to focus on classes and hanging out and not thinking about his brain being broken into pieces. 

Throughout the day he would slip the glasses on and, while Edith ran silent during class, the now familiar text box would appear, the word 'Real' displayed in bold. 

This was okay. He could go on like this for as long as he needed to.

* * *

Field trips weren't uncommon. They actually went to quite a few exhibits and museums. There was a science exposition being put on by a lot of schools in the area. Midtown was participating and, though Peter hadn't submitted anything, he was still going to attend with his class. They'd have to write a report on the experience later on and Peter, honestly, wasn't too invested in the trip or the essay. 

He'd had a headache all day and, while his hip had been feeling better, it still twinged in pain every once in a while. 

Truthfully, Peter had been having trouble sleeping; he was always woken up by dreams that he couldn't remember properly. While the dreams themselves weren't sending him spiraling anymore, the lack of sleep was taking its toll. 

He was dozing on the bus, MJ had promised to wake him if he looked like he was having a bad dream. He wouldn’t let her hold his hand while he was asleep; worried he’d hurt her if he got caught up in a nightmare. Instead, she would tap his hand while he slept and the sensation was just enough to remind him where he was and keep him in the present. He felt safe. 

"We're here." MJ brushed fingers over his knuckles to rouse him. Blearily, he followed his friends out of the bus. For once, his senses weren't kicking into overdrive and his headache was feeling better.

_ You're safe, you're fine. _ It was a relief, to be this comfortable.

The trip was going well, nothing hurt at the moment and Flash hadn't made fun of him at all today. In fact, Flash had backed off a little bit lately. Peter was pretty sure it was because of MJ. She usually had a quip on hand or dismissive comment. And Flash did not like being dismissed.

Later, he would think that it was because he was so calm and unprepared that things went to shit so quickly. 

Peter felt a thrum through his sneakers, but he had ignored it. It wasn't until the telltale train whistle sounded that his senses spiked violently and he threw himself sideways, hitting the wall. His head dented the plaster. 

It took MJ and Ned a moment to realize what had happened. To them, the train was a distant sound, barely registering in their consciousness. 

"Oh, Peter, okay, it's okay, it's okay." Ned was trying to be subtle, trying to block Peter from the view of their class. But Peter had hit the wall with a loud thud and now his breathing was too loud and he made a strangled sound. 

"What's Parker's problem now?" Flash questioned. He sounded bored. 

"Can you move your feet?" MJ was in his ear and it was all too close. Ned was putting pressure on his shoulder, breathing assurances on his face. Peter's heart had sped up and he could hear it beating against his chest, like it was going to break his sternum. He realized Edith was still hanging off his shirt and he made a frantic grasp for the glasses, but his hand was shaking too hard. 

Peter felt the glasses slip from their place and he stopped breathing entirely. 

_ How could you lose them again? Stupid stupid so stupid. _

He didn't know what he had bit down on, but he felt blood fill his mouth.

"Here, here." Frames slipped into place and a new voice joined the spiraling ones.

"Peter, breathe." Edith. She was here. Not gone. Not lost. Not stupidly given away.

He could hear Ned talking, rambling, explaining to their teacher something… some lie. 

Peter has a fear of crowds. Peter isn't feeling well. Just give him a minute.

"He's bleeding."

"Ned, help me."

Hands were on him. 

_ Stop stop stop. _

He was being dragged. He started to dig his heels in, resisting because it was all he could do.

"Peter there is no danger. Your friends are real."

Edith was trying to calm him down. He didn't know if he was imagining the worried tone or not. 

He let them drag him away, into another room where his nose was assaulted with the scent of piss and cheap cleaner. 

Boy's bathroom. 

The hands were gone and he sank to the floor, every last bit of energy draining out of him. Someone brushed a wet paper towel across his chin and he winced at the startling cold.

"You with us?" MJ asked. Peter blinked. He wanted to say something, but when his lips parted more blood went spilling out. He hadn't realized he'd been holding the blood in his mouth, refusing to let any drip down his esophagus.

MJ swore and pressed the paper towel over his mouth, trying to keep the blood from ruining his shirt.

"Peter, can you open your mouth?" Even though her voice only wavered slightly, he knew he had scared her again. 

"No poin'" Peter garbled, muffled by the cheap paper towel. 

"I just want to know if you bit a piece of your tongue off. I mean, it's not going to grow back right?" MJ lowered the paper towel and wiped absently at his shirt front. 

Peter shook his head. He swished the remaining blood around. Getting a sense of what he had done. He was pretty sure his incisor had punched a hole in his tongue. He had also managed to bite the inside of his cheek. 

Peter shook his head again, but he motioned to the sink and Ned quickly helped to pull him to a standing position. He was shaky and his legs felt like rubber, but Ned kept a hand on his back. Peter spat out the remaining blood into the basin. 

Peter opened his mouth and tried to survey the damage himself. The bleeding had already nearly stopped, his tissues were probably beginning to knit themselves back together. 

"Edith." It hurt to talk. "'an you texth Happy? Needa go."

"Of course, Peter." He was surprised she hadn't accused him of being hard to understand. Peter brushed his fingers across the stain of blood down the front of his shirt. He got lost somewhere in the action. His fingertips pressed into his sternum, his heartbeat still pounded there painfully. 

“Peter.” 

He jolted, remembering he wasn't alone. He looked back at his friends, their concern clearly evident on their faces. 

"I'm really sorry, man," Ned managed. "I should have noticed the tracks on the way in. I didn't think about it."

MJ nodded in agreement, she looked guilty as well. He didn't like that. 

"No' your faul', guys." Peter wiped his sleeve across his mouth. He felt excess saliva pooling against his lips and he hesitated only a moment before spitting into the sink again. 

Peter felt a wave of nausea, but he fought against it. He pulled air in slowly, feeling his shoulders rise with the action. 

There was a warning knock at the door before it creaked open. Peter flinched, but it was just their concerned teacher. Luckily, Peter seemed to have gained a reputation as being sickly, since he was always claiming illness or allergies to cover things up. So nobody actually seemed surprised that Peter Parker had something else wrong with him now. 

“Oh MJ, should you be in here-”

“Yes.” MJ didn’t leave room for argument. Their teacher muttered something close to an apology and stepped away, leaving the three of them alone again. 

By the time Happy arrived, the bleeding had stopped. 

Peter’s heartbeat never slowed back down. 

* * *

"You need to tell me what's going on." Happy was clutching the steering wheel too tightly. He had waited several minutes while Peter sat in the passenger seat, silent. But Happy could see the blood on his shirt, the shaking of his hands, the way Edith was constantly displaying something for him...

"Had a panic attack. Bit myself." He could speak more easily now, but his tongue still stung and it felt like a failure when he spoke. Peter couldn't help the tears that sprung to his eyes. "Don't tell May."

"No. Kid, no. We're not hiding this from May. She can handle your Spiderman stuff, she can handle this as well." 

"She," Peter gasped in a short breath,"she doesn't like it when I hurt myself." Peter wiped at his face harshly, catching wayward tears and nudging the glasses slightly out of place. 

Happy breathed out slowly. Tony could be self-destructive and he’d had to just try to make sure he didn't go too far. But Tony was an adult, who took years to start to sort himself out. There had been a lot of pain there. Happy wanted to protect Peter from that if he could. 

"She can handle it." 

No secrets. May had made him promise.

Peter finally nodded. 

Something shook in Peter's being and he knew without having to see, that a train was working its way down nearby tracks. 

He managed to make it home before throwing up his lunch.

* * *

Happy ended up sitting with him on the couch, waiting for May. They didn't really talk, but Happy gave him a glass of water and reminded him to drink every few minutes. Edith agreed that hydration was important so Peter drank, not wanting to disappoint them.

May came home from work early. Peter figured Happy had told her she was needed, because she rushed through the door and didn’t even lock it behind her. She went straight to Peter and sat down close. She asked him what happened as she brushed stray hair from his forehead. 

He told her everything. 

She looked confused at first. Peter had forgotten, amongst everything, that he hadn't actually told her what was setting off the panic attacks; as if not sharing everything would make it less real. But he was a bad liar, couldn't even remember he had been keeping that from her. 

"The train whistle startled you." She was repeating after him. Peter tried to stutter out the reason exactly. Because the whistle came with the train and the train meant pain and darkness and being alone. It meant hurting so badly he couldn't move right and blood seeping out of him and death. 

"I was- I was alone. And Beck- I was alone. And- and I just- I just- it hurt." Peter felt his insides churning. He wrung his hands, tried to stop shaking. He tripped over an apology, but May gently shushed him. She set a steady hand on the back of his neck. 

"If he wasn't gone, I would kill him, I swear."

Peter looked up, blinking. May was turned away, biting out words towards Happy. Happy only nodded and mouthed soundlessly, _ I know. _

The rest of the afternoon passed away with Peter stammering out what he had been up to lately. He talked about freaking out over the train the first time and then all the other times when he tried to face it. May listened as he repeated himself and didn't always make sense. He had thought talking about it would make things worse, but as May rubbed his back and told him it was okay, he felt calmer. 

He didn't delve into the way he had been using Edith, the way he felt like his reality was coming apart. But when he met May's eyes, he thought he could see a deeper understanding. 

She already knew. 

Peter was grateful for her. She was strong and patient and she loved him so much. 

And when she told him he would be okay, he could believe her.

* * *

School had been becoming comfortable. 

But of course that got ruined. 

Flash had thought his fear of crowds was hilarious and he commented on it when he could. Peter kept getting accused of fainting on their field trip and it wouldn’t have bothered him so much if it only concerned him, but MJ and Ned felt guilty over it. 

They felt like they had messed up and it was hard to forget about and move on with Flash bringing it up every day. 

Peter considered having Edith delete everything on Flash's phone out of pettiness, but he didn't want to use Edith that way.

_ Because she is certainly meant to be your comfort item, right? _

Peter knew he was being ridiculous by keeping Edith on all the time. He knew it, but he couldn't stop it. 

Paranoia. May had said. Please, consider talking to someone, she had also said. She wouldn't _ make _ him go see a therapist, but she made it obvious that she would strongly support his decision to do so. In the meantime, she had made him promise to talk to the people around him and not to bottle things up. He had promised, but sometimes the words just weren’t _ there _. Everything crashed down on him and he got lost, stuck in his head or stuck in a dark, empty train car on the other side of the world. 

He could handle this.

But.

He had Edith scanning for nearby trains all the time. The word "Real" was burned into his retina with how often she had it displayed for him. 

It was fine. He was surviving. 

"Peter, surviving isn't the same thing as living," MJ had told him. She was worried for him and he scared her sometimes. MJ was a strong person and she helped, but she wasn't responsible for figuring out his problems for him. He needed to get there on his own.

And right now, surviving was _ enough _.

Unfortunately, though Peter Parker could seemingly survive living in a state of anxiety and caution, it appeared that Spiderman could not.

Peter was out on patrol when it happened. He had been staying away from most tracks and, when he happened to follow crime to the edge of his safe zone, he stayed up as high as he could. Never touching the ground. If he could stay away from the rumbling earth, he could keep the fear at bay. 

It was really only a matter of time. 

It was still early evening when some jerks had decided to rob a local liquor store. They were already piling into their car when Spiderman arrived. He hadn't managed to stop the car and he was feeling indignant. It should have been easy, but he managed to miss them with his webbing.

No problem. He followed them, figuring he would either stop the car when it was safe to do so or web them after they arrived at their destination. 

He followed close behind, not hesitating. Well, not hesitating until they got stopped by the lowering crossing arms of the railroad tracks. The car swerved, trying to avoid another vehicle that had stopped. They knocked the stopped car hard enough that the crooks ended up swerving sideways, cracking against one of the crossing arms before coming to a stop on the tracks.

Peter swung forward without shooting out his webbing. He tumbled in the air before landing in a heap on the street. 

Distantly, pain shot up his left ankle and his hip twinged. 

The train whistle blew.

The car didn't move. The thieves were not getting out. Maybe they were panicking or stuck somehow. 

Peter felt bile rise in his throat. 

_ Move move move _

His stupid arms actually listened to his screaming mind for once. 

He shot out two cords of webbing. He felt his mind check out and everything became automatic. _ Secure the car, pull it out of harm's way. _

The ground shook. 

He pulled hard, scraping the car sideways, to safety. 

There was blood in his mouth again.

_ One last pull. _

There. They were clear.

Peter's legs gave out.

The warm pavement beneath him buzzed to life. Angry bees swarmed up his legs and into his gut. They stung and burned agony up his entire right side. 

He gagged. Choked. Blood soaked his mask and he could not breathe. He snapped his wrist out, his shoulder complained at the angle, but he ignored it. He needed to get away. Up, off the ground, away from the noise and the biting darkness.

_ You're going to die. _

Peter's foot clipped a building's edge as he swung blindly. He found purchase on a wall and propelled himself upwards until he found a ledge. A roof. A safer place.

Peter ripped his mask away and coughed so hard he was sure his lung would come up with the blood.

_ Can't breathe cant breathe cant breathe _

He didn't have Edith. He'd left her home on purpose, trying to break off his reliance on her. He hadn't integrated Karen or any AI into the suit he was wearing. A sharp pain shot through his chest and his legs gave out. 

_ I'm alone. _

The sun was nearly finished setting. Peter felt a chill climb up his spine as everything tipped into darkness. 

_ I don’t want to be alone. _

It was his last thought before he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will slow down as the next part is... in pieces. Also, I start classes again next week. :/  
Please do comment! I enjoy chatting with you all and you really brighten my day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I just finished editing and I'm just going to go ahead and post it without reading through it a second time. There might be some mistakes, but I really did want to get a chapter posted this week and I'm a bit tired of wrestling with this chapter. I'm going to be reading it over in the next few hours and hopefully catching more mistakes. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been commenting. I really appreciate your support!

May had already sent him a text message wishing him goodnight, so when Happy's phone actually rang a little before midnight, he knew that something was wrong. His stomach sank when he saw the caller ID.

May had worked late. She would have just gotten home.

He took a breath and answered the call.

His suspicions were immediately confirmed. Peter wasn’t home. He wasn’t answering phone calls and texts. It was a school night. He never stayed out this late on a school night. They had an agreement.

Happy promised to find him; promised it would be alright. And he hung up, feeling like a liar. He brought up his "Peter tracker" and waited. If Peter had his phone with him, Happy could get a location on him.

A single dot appeared on his screen. On a building. Not moving.

Happy was out the door immediately.

* * *

It took some finesse and fire escape wrangling for Happy to finally make it to the roof. He wondered if he really should have gone with a helicopter option, though he was aiming for discreet here.

When he finally clambered up the last few steps, he was out of breath and it took him a moment to recover. He had only just felt like he was able to breathe regularly again when he caught sight of Peter and the meager amount of air left his lungs.

Peter was curled up, not moving, with his unmasked face resting in a puddle of blood and sick.

Happy thought he was dead.

_Be okay be okay be okay_

His fingers went to Peter's neck as he started looking for injuries. The pulse seemed steady enough. And he was breathing. All good signs.

"Peter, hey. Wake up, kid. Come on." Happy shook his shoulder.

Peter jolted back to consciousness with a shout. He knocked Happy's arm away and, yeah that hurt, but Happy wasn't going to show it.

"You're alright, you're alright."

Peter's eyes darted about wildly and he took in huge gasping breaths. When his chest expanded, Peter let out a groan. A hand went to his ribcage and he curled up, his breath hitching.

"You're hurt? Your ribs? What? Where? Show me where."

If Peter had been feeling better he would have thought it was funny with the way Happy sounded like a dad. God, that thought made him want to cry actually.

Peter motioned to his ribs on his right side. He tried to speak, but the words got lost in a whimper.

Happy's hands went to his side. He carefully prodded the area, searching for anything unusual. All Peter could do was nod when he was asked if that was where it hurt.

Happy really wished he had gone with the helicopter option.

* * *

In the end, Peter ended up having to drag himself down from the roof. Happy descended alongside him, one hand on the ladder rung and another on Peter's back when he could manage it.

It was slow and when they finally got down to the ground, Peter's leg failed to take his full weight.

"Hurt my ankle," he admitted.

"You should have said something sooner." Happy knelt beside him where he had collapsed.

"I forgot." It sounded dumb, but it was true. There had been so much going through his head that the ankle had not even registered as slightly important until it refused to carry him.

Once Peter had gathered himself, Happy pulled him into a standing position.

"Lean on me, we'll go slow."

Peter hobbled to the waiting car, his arm firmly around Happy's shoulder. Pain erupted through his chest and he knew he was digging his fingers into Happy's shoulder, but he couldn't help it. He bit out a strangled apology, but Happy just shook his head.

"I'd carry you if I could, kid."

Peter felt his throat close up. Happy cared so much.

"Sorry," Peter blurted through an unexpected sob. He didn't know what else to say.

"It's okay. You'll be alright."

Peter tried to believe him.

* * *

"Peter, Peter, oh god, okay." May had wanted to hug him, but her nephew was leaning heavily on Happy and his eyes were red. He had that pinched expression that he got when he was hurting.

"Here, bring him over here." May rushed to the couch and quickly cleared away a space, tossing a decorative pillow to the floor.

"Happy, can you bring Edith?" Peter rasped as soon as Happy deposited him on the sofa.

"On it, boss."

Distantly, Peter realized Happy had gone into emergency mode, and he had done that most with Tony. The 'boss' had slipped out unintentionally. Happy didn't seem to notice. Peter felt his stomach drop all the same.

May was at his side, but then gone. Peter tried to keep his breathing even. Deeper breaths were painful.

He swallowed down the bitter fear. He wasn't alone. He was in his apartment. May was still nearby. Peter let out a soft whimper. He had wanted to call for her, but something had seized up inside him.

"Okay, here we go." May was smoothing back his hair and he sighed in relief. Happy made his return and carefully slipped the glasses onto Peter's face.

"Eidth?" Peter whispered.

"Everything is real, Peter."

"Can you- could you run diagnostics?"

"Of course." There was a momentary delay before his vitals started appearing. Heartbeat was a little fast. Oxygen saturation could be better…. Wait.

"Peter, you have a healing fractured talus in your ankle. There is also a minor herniation of your right lung."

"A lung… hernia?"

"I do not recommend coughing or vomiting for the duration of the healing process."

"You have a what?" Happy was standing over him with wide eyes. Peter realized how tired Happy looked.

"Lung hernia," May clarified, her tone sharp. She was stressed and worried and Peter knew she wasn't being snappy on purpose. "How bad is it?" She had stopped smoothing down his hair.

"Edith said minor," Peter croaked out.

"Okay, but how bad are you hurting?" Her thumb brushed over his cheek, wiping away the older tear tracks.

"Not too bad."

"Peter," she warned.

"I swear, it's not too bad anymore. It just aches and I can't take too deep a breath."

"Peter," Edith spoke up again, "as long as you breathe steadily, the hernia will heal in the next 24 hours."

"Edith says it will be alright," Peter whispered.

"Oh, does she?" May muttered under her breath. Peter shuddered, feeling cold. He finally realized his head was damp and that May had been cleaning puke from his hair with a wet cloth.

He was a mess and he'd probably gotten puke on Happy and now he was messing up the couch and god, May hadn't even asked him what had happened and he was going to have to tell her how he freaked out again, and robbers got away and he had hurt his lip and he'd coughed and gagged so hard he'd herniated a stupid lung and passed out and-

"Peter, your breathing is escalating. I recommend slower breathing if the hernia is to heal." Edith actually sounded impatient with him. As though she was irritated he had ignored her steady breathing suggestion.

"Hey," May was inches from his face, she had been trying to talk to him for a few seconds.

"He-hey," Peter whispered.

"Stay with me, okay?" May's eyes looked wet, but she blinked, clearing them.

"Okay," Peter promised. She smoothed his hair from his face and he exhaled, focusing on the comforting sensation.

May stayed close. Peter had insisted they didn't need to call a doctor, he would be healed in a day or so. She carefully changed him out of his Spiderman suit and into a loose fitting shirt and sweats. They then propped his ankle up and had Edith monitoring his progress.  
May talked quietly to him, keeping his mind occupied, keeping his thoughts from skittering down faraway tracks. He could focus on her words and he could breathe carefully, not causing himself anymore pain.

He managed to fall asleep after the sun came up. When he stumbled into consciousness much later, he found Happy snoring in a nearby chair. May was passed out on the floor, her head resting on the decorative pillow. She had stayed as close as she could.

"Edith," Peter cleared his dry throat. "I know they're real."

"Yes, Peter."

* * *

Peter had taken two days off from school. May had wanted to be sure he was healed before he returned. Edith had told him when his body had finished healing, but he was still sore and May had offered to call Happy to help get him checked out by a trusted doctor again. Peter had refused. Edith said he was healed, so any lingering pain was probably just in his head anyway.

He had been breathing shallowly for the past few days, worried about exasperating his lung injury. It had left him anxious about taking a deep breath.

He hadn't felt like going to school, but it was a Friday and he could pick up the work he had missed and have the weekend to finish it. He had a test today that he knew wasn't going to go well, but May had told him it was okay to flub one test.

It would be okay.

Peter's fingers twitched. He wanted to slip Edith on, but Happy was driving him to school and the man kept glancing at him, checking to make sure he was alright. Peter was about to assure him that he was okay, when his phone buzzed.

**Ned**: Hey, be careful when you get here. Betty says Flash was talking about having a bunch of people walk into you

**Peter**: What

**Ned**: Like to crowd you

**Ned**: He’s trying to get a bunch of people to crowd you as a joke

Peter just stared at his phone.

"Everything okay, Peter?"

Peter wasn't afraid of crowds. So it shouldn't have bothered him. Flash was just being a colossal jerk. That wasn't new.

Peter slipped his phone back into his pocket. His fingers found the glasses hanging from the collar of his shirt and he slipped them on. Edith lit up, but ran silently.

"Something happen?" Happy tried again. Peter shook his head.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Peter forced out in a strained voice. They were already pulling up to the school. Happy hadn't even completely stopped the car, before Peter was climbing out. "Thanks," he managed before slamming the door shut.

Peter shouldered his backpack. He walked resolutely toward the front doors, his steps were heavy on the pavement.

He took in one deep breath that sent a dull ache through his chest and entered the building.

People were brushing against him. He reminded himself to lean away, let them push against him. If he stood his ground, he was liable to hurt someone.

_Move your shoulder with the contact, but keep walking._

He couldn't get to his locker.

There was a crowd around it, sniggering and not looking at him, acting like he wasn't even there.

He didn't know what the game was here. What reaction was Flash even going for?

Peter felt his mouth go dry. Slow, shallow breaths. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. His ankle protested.

He supposed he should just ask them to move. And if they didn't, well he couldn't push them out of the way…

Someone knocked against his shoulder, but he didn't move. He heard the muffled "Ow" from whatever unfortunate passerby had decided to participate in this.

_I don't want to deal with this._

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Edith, who still remained silent, displayed his messages. Ned and MJ were both texting him.

The crowd in front of him had begun to shift, probably because he had been standing there, staring for over a minute, not reacting. A few of them branched off and left, tired of the game. He caught sight of Flash, skirting the edges of the group.

"Parker can't even take a joke," he complained loudly.

"Freak."

Peter wasn't even sure where that last comment had come from. A student he didn't know. Someone who hadn't spent five years not existing. Someone who had no reason to dislike him. Probably didn't even know him.

Something slipped out of place.

_I can't breathe._

Peter turned around and walked away.

The moment he was outside, Edith came back. Now that Peter had left the building, she spoke freely.

"Peter, would you like me to contact someone?"

Peter shook his head.

"You have an elevated heart rate and are breathing erratically. Who should I contact?"

"Not May." Because she was at work and she was busy.

Edith went silent and Peter walked down the sidewalk. He didn't know where he was going, he just wanted to get rid of that crawling feeling going up the back of his neck.

"Peter, turn right."

He did as he was told. He walked steadily, staring hard at the ground.

"You can stop now."

Peter was struck by the phrasing. Edith was being so abrupt. Was he the one making her like that? He stopped in his tracks.

"Everything is real." Edith was speaking slowly.

"Peter?"

Startled, Peter jumped at the unexpected voice, nearly knocking into a stranger on the sidewalk. Happy was there, getting out of his parked car and calling for him.

"What's going on? What happened?"

Edith must have called him, told him where to go.

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but his throat closed. He thought about Flash, who hadn't shut up since the field trip. He thought about May and Ned and MJ and Happy who were trying, doing their best to understand and help him. He thought about Edith, who had become his crutch when she was capable of doing so much more.

And he thought about Tony.

What would Mr. Stark think of him?

Of how weak he was and scared? Traumatized because of his own mistakes, not able to get a grip when he needed to be better. In so much pain from his whole right side and from his lip, which was actually starting to scar from the abuse he put it through. It didn't matter how hard he tried, everything kept slipping away and one of these times he was going to slip away too and maybe he wouldn't come back.

"Jesus, kid, he would have been terrified for you."

Peter choked. He hadn't meant to say any of that outloud. He was crying on the sidewalk and Happy had put out his arms as though he was reaching for an embrace, but he stopped short, not actually hugging Peter.

"He would have blamed himself and he would have done anything to help you."

Peter was trying to stop sobbing, not even sure when he had started. People were walking around him, trying to avoid the teenager having a breakdown in public.

He was trying hard not to gasp for breath, deep breaths were bad. He could feel his lungs straining with effort.

"Come sit down, come on." Happy was nudging him toward the passenger side. He went without fighting. In a moment, he was back in the car and the world became muted when Happy shut the door behind him.

"Let's take a minute, kid." Happy had climbed into the driver's side. He set his hands on the wheel, but didn't turn the car back on.

Happy breathed and Peter wanted to match it, but he couldn't.

"Peter, slow your breathing rate." Edith started displaying facts about hyperventilation. "You require slower, deeper breaths." His vitals flitted across the screen. "Your lung hernia has healed."

"Still hurts though," Peter mumbled under his breath.

"What's hurting you?" Happy was turned in his seat, studying the boy intently. Suddenly aware of how closely he was being scrutinized, Peter wiped his face with his sleeves. The tears had at least stopped for now.

"I don't feel like going to school," he finally admitted.

A beat of silence. Happy blinked. "Copy that."

Happy started the car and Peter sighed with the bit of air he had managed to collect in his lungs. Edith displayed his vitals again.

"Please, not so bright," he requested. Because Edith was trying to help, but the constant visuals were giving him a headache. Everything seemed too intense. His senses weren't overloading, but he could feel it starting to become too much. Edith's display dimmed.

Peter let his eyes close and he focused on his lungs. It wasn't like when he was younger and asthma had sent him spiraling into an attack. It wasn't quite like when he woke up from a nightmare and panic seized his lungs. The anxiety was similar, but the pain was different.

_Because it's not real._

But it still hurt. And it was dragging him down to exhaustion.

Peter breathed out.

He didn't ask where they were going, but Edith told him it was real when his eyes happened to flick open, so it was probably okay.

She told him they were approaching some tracks and he squeezed his eyes tightly closed as she played white noise for him. Purposefully distracted and feeling a deep weariness, he slipped away. He didn't think he had fallen asleep. It seemed more like one moment they were driving through the city and then the next, they weren't.

When he opened his eyes again, the familiar buildings had fallen away and there were only trees.

He knew where they were going, but it still didn't quite hit him until he was stepping out of the car and nearly getting knocked over by an overly excited little girl.

"Peter!"

"Hey." Peter's voice was just above a whisper.

"Everything is real," Edith chimed.

"I know, thank you," Peter muttered quickly.

"Daddy's glasses!" Morgan shouted, pointing with a smile.

Peter felt like he had been punched in the gut.

"Can I see?" Morgan held up one grasping hand. Peter bit down his first instinct to refuse. Wordlessly, he handed them over.

They were much too big for her and she had to hold them in place with both hands.

"Friday?" Morgan questioned.

"Her name's Edith." Peter was working past the way his stomach was churning.

"Edith!" Morgan bobbed her head and nearly dropped the glasses on the ground.

Peter heard a quiet voice speak up, verifying Morgan's identity and then a soft greeting.

"Hello, Morgan."

Peter didn't know if it was just him, but Edith sounded much more gentle.

Morgan laughed and she bounced away, running into Happy's arms. Happy picked her up with ease.

"Hey, kiddo."

Morgan tilted her head, listening carefully. Her smile fell.

"Edith says I don't have full axes."

"_Access_. And I would hope you don't, squirt."

Morgan frowned, but began to motion to the house. Before she could speak, the glasses slipped from her head. Happy caught them.

"I'm going to give these back to Peter, alright?"

"Okay." Morgan was already wiggling from his grip. He set her down and she was off, running up the steps to her home and announcing to her mom that Happy and Peter were here.

Happy handed Edith back to Peter.

"You alright?" Happy asked.

"Yeah," Peter breathed out. He slipped Edith back on, stared at the information she began displaying. '**Real' **blinked in the corner of his frames.

"It's okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do leave a comment! 
> 
> Oh, and Mr. Harley Keener finally makes an appearance next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said it would be a wait, but I was not feeling well and I had three days off work in a row. So I stayed home and finished writing this.

"She's not in school?" Maybe it wasn't his place to ask, but the last time he checked, Morgan had started school.

"She was having trouble adjusting." Pepper didn't miss a beat. "We have independent studies set up for her."

Peter wondered who the "we" in that sentence referred to. Tony would have been involved in the planning before, but it must refer to someone else now or maybe it was just out of habit. May used to make the same mistake.

Pepper had invited them for lunch and Peter was trying to make himself useful with the preparations, but she had told him it was okay. She hadn't mentioned Edith and Peter wondered if he should remove the glasses, but he wasn't used to this environment and he wanted Edith there.

"Happy, could you go out to the garage and try to get Harley to come eat?"

"Yeah," Happy lowered his voice, but Peter could still hear him, "when was the last time he ate?"

"About 2am, last night."

"Alright, I'm on it, boss." Happy turned to Peter. "Want to help me out?"

Peter slowly nodded, though he wasn't sure how much help he would be.

He followed Happy out to the garage, he only realized they had extra company when a small hand grabbed his fingers. He jumped slightly at the contact, but, thankfully, realized it was just Morgan.

"Harley eats my cereal."

"Oh," Peter glanced around. He wasn't sure what an appropriate response would be.

"He's not s'posed to." Morgan hopped over a stick in their path. "But you can have some! We can share." Morgan beamed up at him. Peter could hear Happy chuckle softly.

"Uh… thanks, Morgan."

They walked into the garage and Peter's first thought was that it was familiar. It was Mr. Stark's and so steeped in his influence that he swore he could look and see the man working at one of the long tables.

But it didn't matter where he looked, Tony wasn't there. It was stupid. Peter knew he was gone, but something in him told him to check anyway.

Because he had just been here.

His absence from the space seemed incredibly wrong.

Harley, however, was very much there in the middle of the room, standing atop a table, schematics stretching around him from one side to the other. He was facing away from them.

"Squatter," Happy clapped his hands, getting the other boy's attention. "Take a break, boss' orders."

Harley waved his hands and everything in front of him collapsed into itself and disappeared.

"Happy, tell Morgan to come fix this." Harley brought up a different set of blueprints. "She's put it in French because she knows I can't read it."

Morgan giggled from behind Happy's leg.

"You!" Harley spun around. "Put this back!"

Morgan let out a high pitched shriek and bolted from the garage. Peter could hear her giggling loudly as she ran back to the house.

"You- you can't just have Friday put it back to English?"

Harley blinked, realizing Peter was standing there for the first time.

"Once precious Morgan does something, nobody is allowed to override it except for Pepper and maybe Rhodey." Harley shrugged. "Also, Friday isn't being incredibly helpful, she stopped talking months ago. Nobody can figure out what's wrong."

Harley flicked his wrist, bringing up the schematics for Friday's code. He waved his hand again and the projection moved closer to Peter.

"Figure she's broken, but I don't know what part." Harley sat down at the edge of the table. "I'm not hungry, Happy."

"You stay here, you eat every day." Happy shrugged. "You know the rules."

A string of French went by on the projected screen closest to Peter and Harley sighed.

"I can try." Peter moved forward. Edith had started to link up to the system around him. The French on screen translated automatically for him in his frames.

_Hello, Peter Parker. How can I assist you?_

"English would probably be better for everyone," Peter mumbled as he began looking through the settings. But just like that, all the text around them snapped back to English.

_Of course, sir._

Harley let out a string of swears.

"Really? He hasn't even been here!" Harley threw his hands in the air.

"I- I'm sorry," Peter stammered. God, why would Tony give him override privileges?

Harley sighed deeply. He waved off the apology and slipped from the table.

"Don’t worry. Nobody's mad at you or anything. See if you can fix Friday."

"After lunch," Happy said pointedly.

"Of course, after lunch." Harley moved quickly past them as though eating had been his idea in the first place. Peter only hesitated briefly before following behind.

* * *

After lunch, he had Edith bring up his phone log. He had about 20 missed calls. Luckily, Happy had gotten the message out to May that Peter was skipping school and taking a leave. Happy had invited her to join, but as long as Peter insisted he was fine, she said she could stay and work her planned shifts.

"Just take some time and don't worry about school, we'll figure it out."

Peter did his best to sound fine on the phone. But he was pacing the porch and he was sure May was picking up on his nervous energy.

He didn't tell her about the bullying, but he had a feeling she knew. She seemed to be waiting for him to bring it up, but he really didn't want to have that conversation right now. His suspicions were confirmed when he next called MJ and she admitted to calling May.

"You were gone and it was a safety issue, she needed to know what happened," MJ explained. "I'm not sorry about it either," she added.

Peter breathed out a soft laugh. "It's alright. I'm sorry I worried you." He sat down heavily on the porch steps.

"Well, yeah I was worried, but I was pretty mad at Flash at the time." MJ's voice had dropped to a whisper. "Sorry I couldn't get to you around that crowd. I tried."

"I know. Thank you."

"Not sure if you got my text, but Flash got detention over the whole thing."

"He's probably going to be more annoying now since he got in trouble."

"I don't think so. I think he knew he went too far in the end."

Peter took as deep a breath as he could before he let it out. "I'm not scared of crowds though."

"Doesn't matter. He thought you were and you did look freaked out at the whole thing."

There was a long pause. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle.

"When you come back, we'll hang out. Just… feel better, okay?"

"Yeah," Peter croaked. His throat felt way too tight suddenly. The door behind him swung open, the hinges complained as it hit the wall with a thud. It wasn't a danger, but Peter jumped at the noise.

"Sorry," Harley shouted as he hopped down the steps and made his way back to the garage.

The door swung open again and Morgan burst from the home. She had been about to follow Harley, but made a sharp turn when she saw Peter.

"Play with me!" She shouted as she wrapped her fingers around his arm.

"Oh, okay," Peter agreed. "MJ, I'm going to go, I'll call you later."

"Alright, talk to you soon. Don't forget to text Ned."

"Peter!" Morgan pulled as hard as she could. He promised to contact Ned too and said a quick good bye.

"Come on, come on!" Morgan started to hop in place. 

He hadn't known who Morgan was when he had first got back. Right after that last big battle, while they were just trying to pick themselves back up, there had been a conversation and her name kept getting brought up. Peter hadn't been really listening back then, but he realized Rhodey kept mentioning her. And finally, someone must have asked him something, because the people around him had gone quiet. He didn't know what he had been asked and when he tried to figure out what they had been talking about, _Morgan_ was the only thing he had pulled from the conversation.

"Sorry, I- who's Morgan?" He had asked. He had been trying to be polite, but everyone looked horrified at the question. Realizing that Peter didn't _know_.

Ms. Potts had told him in the end. And he never figured out how she explained that in such a calm manner.

He certainly hadn't been okay after she told him.

Peter let Morgan pull him away. And he spent his afternoon following her around, playing any game that popped into her head. She showed him her favorite trees and the garden and daddy's alpaca. He made her a slingshot out of webbing and sticks and they spent a lot of time catapulting rocks into the lake. She laughed and she held his hand, as if they had always done this. As if he had been around her whole life.

It was all so surprisingly simple and easy and he couldn't think of the last time he had felt that at ease.

* * *

"This notification keeps coming up, it says, well, I mean, it just says '_Sleep_.' What's that?"

They were out in the garage after dinner. Peter was trying to figure out what was going on with Friday and Harley was standing in the middle of the room, pulling apart projected schematics.

"It's for me. If I get less than 6 hours in a 36 hour period, Friday will get Pepper or Happy." Harley checked his watch. "I need to sleep."

Now that he was talking about it, Harley did look pale and he had big circles under his eyes. Peter hadn't realized, but he had only seen him at the funeral, they had all looked a bit haggard back then. But Harley looked... worse now.

Harley groaned, but he closed his current project and crossed the room to throw himself down on the futon in the corner.

There was a moment of silence as Peter gathered his thoughts.

"So, um, do you have school- er, college or anything?"

"Quit my job and I'm taking the semester off." Harley let his eyes shut as he shuffled down into the bed.

Peter had definitely gotten the vibe that Harley had been staying for awhile and, even though there was a room in the house for him, evidence pointed to him living in the garage.

"You- you're… are you okay?" Peter asked quietly. Everyone was always asking Peter if he was okay lately, maybe Harley needed that too.

"Yep." Harley didn't seem bothered by the question. "Things are better..."

Peter waited for Harley to continue, but he didn't. Peter turned back to his work, he expanded out some code, let it surround him. He was switching his focus over to a new program for his suit and he was fine to get lost in the project.

"Fathers leave. No need to be a pussy about it."

Peter balked, he spun back around to see if Harley was actually awake. "What?"

"Tony told me that when I met him." Harley shrugged. "He was right though. Fathers leave, one way or another, I guess."

“I'm sorry.” And Peter didn't know what he was apologizing for anymore.

“Yeah, man. I know you are.”

There was a long pause. Harley let out a low chuckle, but when Peter looked over, the other boy’s eyes were still closed. He didn’t know what could be so funny. Maybe Harley was delirious from sleep deprivation.

“What’s his name?”

Peter blinked, less startled this time.

“What?”

Harley waved his hand through the air, his eyes never bothering to open.

“The name of the kid that bullies you.”

Peter shook his head. “Nobody- He doesn’t- Flash is just an ass. I can usually just ignore him.”

“Flash? Sounds like an asshole already.”

“...Yeah.” Peter wasn’t going to argue. Flash was a pain, but he was mostly harmless. Usually. 

“So what does _Flash_ normally bother you about?”

“You should be sleeping." Peter tapped his knuckles together. He fidgeted with a hangnail on his thumb.

“I can’t sleep yet. Need to talk about something." Harley waved an arm through the air, listlessly. "So what does he bother you about?”

Peter shrugged. “Being poor... anything he can really. I had a- he saw me freaking out a while ago- so he’s been bringing that up.”

“Freaking out.” Harley drew out the words slowly.

“Well." Peter made the split second decision to go ahead and tell Harley more about it. "I had- I had a panic attack, I guess. I- um, I have a thing against trains." Peter started to bite his lip. "It’s stupid.”

“Why are you against the trains?” Harley's eyes flicked open.

“Got hit by one.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Peter turned away, he collapsed the code he was working on, his fingers had started to tremor and he couldn't stand to look at them anymore. He sat his hands in his lap and forced them to be still.

“Do you have medication?” Harley piped up again.

“No."

“Should you be on it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you have PTSD?”

“I don’t- maybe. I guess so.”

“Are you freaking out right now?”

“No. I'm not-"

Edith was displaying his heart rate again.

“Just breathe, you're alright.” Harley took a deep breath and let it out. “You have PTSD. Shit happens.”

Harley took another deep breath and Peter found himself matching him automatically. Something inside him alarmed at the idea of deep breaths, but he took the mental warning, acknowledged it, and then he let it go. Peter listened as hard as he could, but there were only gentle noises around him. No trains, no steel and rails. Just rustling and breathing. In and out.

Harley chuckled again, it made Peter jump slightly.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. You just really remind me of him.” Harley rolled so that he was facing away. “Fix Friday, Peter, you’ll feel better.”

Peter went still for a moment before he brought up the schematics once more.

His hands didn't shake the rest of the night.

* * *

"Tony, she's fine."

"Would you just get that away from her? She's going to choke and who's going to do the baby heimlich? You? No, it's me, I'm not heimliching Morgan today, put it away."

Peter was confused when he woke up. He was disoriented, having actually fallen asleep at the worktable. He thought he was having a weird dream, but after he opened his eyes, the voices continued talking.

"Alright, Tony. Relax."

"We talked about this. You know I want her safe."

"Alright, it's gone, she's fine, promise."

Harley was sitting on the table with his back to Peter. Projected in front of him were several screens. One was playing a video which, guessing by the drooling baby Morgan in a younger Harley's arms, was from a few years ago.

In the present, Harley waved his hand and the video was replaced by another video. Harley paused to dig through an opened cereal box at his side. The video began to play. Peter couldn't see the whole screen at his angle, but he recognized Mr. Stark's voice.

"Kid, what is it with you and stealth mode? Your bot doesn't need stealth mode."

"Yes, it does. It would be awesome, come on."

"Okay. I'm no longer believing you want this just to help your mom around the house."

A wave, the video changed.

"Holy shit! Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Tony."

"You almost blew off your face! Let me see your hand."

"Tony, I'm alright."

Peter hadn't meant to make a sound, but he pulled in a breath too sharply.

Harley turned so fast, he knocked over the box of cereal, sending its contents across the table. The video was gone with a quick wave.

"Shit. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's fine." Peter rubbed at his eyes, only realizing at that moment that Edith was gone.

It was very unlikely that something had happened to her while he slept, the glasses probably just fell off. It was fine.

Peter scooted his chair out and began searching the floor. _It's fine. You didn't lose her. You didn't._

"They're right here." Harley motioned to the middle of the table. He was scooping up spilled cereal near them. "They fell off your face while you were sleeping. I didn't mess with them; I just picked them up off the floor."

Of course, of course it was fine. Harley wouldn't do anything. Peter tried to appear casual, but he was moving too quick to not seem anxious.

"Edith."

"Peter, there are no illusions." He sighed in relief and collapsed back into his chair. 

"It's after two in the morning." Harley muttered from around a mouthful of dry cereal. "You should go back to the house. I know they set up a guest room for you." Harley slipped off the table. "I'll try to sleep again too."

Peter did feel tired, but he really felt like he should say something. Harley seemed pretty collected, but there was something painful that was constantly being smoothed over and hidden away.

"Is that Morgan's cereal?" Peter said instead. Harley shrugged.

"He bought it for me first."

"Oh," Peter fidgeted, ripping a hangnail from its place.

"Peter, go sleep before Pepper or Happy come out here."

He didn’t really have an argument against that. He was tired and the last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for Happy or Pepper.

He nodded a good night before moving outside. The front steps to the house were lit up by the warm porch light. He found his way easily, as if he had been staying there for days. Despite everything that they had all lost and everything that had happened, Peter felt like he had a place there.

Once he was climbing into the bed that Pepper had made for him, he pulled the comforter up to his neck and, after only a moment of hesitation, he slipped the glasses off and set them on his pillow.

Before he drifted off, his last thought was that he wasn't in any pain.

* * *

"Life functions critical..."

Peter spoke the words, not realizing what they were. He had asked for a record of the last thing Friday had spoken aloud. He was staring at the date and time for a beat before it all clicked into place.

_Mr. Stark's vitals._

_That's his time of death._

His breath caught and his heart dropped. Peter wanted to stop. He wanted to stop, go curl up somewhere and hide away. He fidgeted with Edith. 

Harley snored from the futon and it startled him. Peter had woken up early and he had set to work, but he was careful not to wake Harley up. The guy obviously needed to rest. Peter turned slowly back to the screen projected in front of him.

_There's still more to do._

_Breathe. Give it a moment._

His lungs filled with air and then he let it all out. It didn’t hurt.

_Keep going._

Peter sifted through Friday’s code. It was advanced, but Peter felt like he could grasp it.

“Why aren’t you saying anything anymore?” Peter muttered. The screen he was looking at was abruptly replaced with a new window. And another, and another. New windows appeared, pages and pages of notes. Ideas and plans and then one section highlighted amongst the rest.

Peter scanned the information.

“Edith, is this right?”

“Yes, Peter.”

Peter pulled in a deep breath.

“Thank you.”

* * *

“I can’t fix Friday, because she’s not broken.” Peter had come back to the garage from lunch to find Harley awake and already working on something.

“But... she doesn’t talk anymore.” Harley was welding something. Peter had no idea if he was making something or if he just felt like melting pieces of metal together.

“Mr. Stark had a protocol in place. A Vow of Silence protocol. He set up this thing, that Friday could choose not to speak, if it wasn’t necessary. If she could still be understood in a different way, she wouldn’t have to speak. It’s like, well, it’s like she’s mourning, I guess.” Peter scratched the back of his head. 

“For how long?” Harley had stopped, setting his tools aside so he wouldn’t accidentally burn a hole through the table or himself.

“I don’t know. It’s up to her.”

“Okay, good.” Harley nodded. “You figured it out.”

“Not really. I asked and Friday showed me Mr. Stark's notes."

"Sounds about right." Harley breathed out slowly. He picked up his tools and eyed the hunk of metal he was currently working on.

“I’m sorry.” Peter shuffled from one foot to another. “I could try to override it, but it didn’t feel right. I-”

“Peter, I get it. Okay?” Harley looked him directly in the eye. “I get it.”

Peter nodded, his words getting stuck in his throat again. He tapped his hands together, not sure if Harley was upset or-

“You okay?” Harley motioned vaguely to the room. “Did figuring it out make you feel any better?”

Peter hadn’t thought about it. “Well, yeah, I feel alright. I-”

“Good. Hang onto that.” Harley turned back to his project.

“Okay.” Peter started to turn, he should probably go, Harley was busy and he should tell Happy about what he learned about Friday.

“Want to help me with this? I’m about 85 percent sure it won’t blow up.”

Peter breathed out in relief.

"Yeah." 

They passed away the afternoon like that. Creating and fixing things. He kept Edith on throughout. She only spoke when helping them run some numbers. She never had to tell him it was all real.

* * *

"That Flash kid, what are you going to do about it?"

The question had come from out of nowhere. It was Sunday morning and Harley was working on a new project now. He didn't seem to stay working on one thing for too long. He jumped between ideas constantly and Peter had trouble keeping up with his thought process. 

"Nothing. School got involved. He got detention."

"Your school have a bullying policy?" Harley tapped a screwdriver absently against the table.

"Yeah."

"They actually follow it?"

Peter shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Want me to break his fingers?"

"What? Oh my god, no!" Peter waved his hands, accidentally closing the program he was working on.

"That was a joke, Peter." Harley went back to his project while Peter tried to get his work to come back online.

"I did think about using Edith to mess with his phone, but it seemed… disrespectful." Peter's screen flickered back to life. 

"Disrespectful to who?" Harley didn't look up.

"Edith, Mr. Stark. I don't know." Peter moved sections of code absently around.

"_Mr. Stark_. You really never called him just Tony?"

Peter froze. He bit his lip slightly before forcing the words out on his next exhale. "Once. At the- at the end."

"Shit," Harley breathed out quietly. He hesitated a second before he shut down his projected screen. He hit his hand on the table, causing Peter's project to close too.

"Look, sorry, call the mechanic whatever you want, okay?"

Startled, Peter nodded. Harley was staring at him pretty intensely and it was a switch from his usual casual air.

"And I don't think Tony would have thought it was disrespectful. Use Edith to destroy that other kid's life, if you want. Tony would have understood. He probably would have done it himself."

"I don't know if he-"

"Okay, maybe don't destroy his life, but messing with his phone sounds like a perfectly reasonable response." Harley opened his project again. "Or we could go the finger breaking route. It's up to you."

Peter sat silently for a moment before he pulled his own project back up.

"Thanks, Harley."

The other boy shrugged. "No problem."

* * *

  
“Turn right up here.”

“Peter.”

“Please.”

It was Sunday night and Happy was driving him back.

“I’m not taking you to any train tracks right now. Look,” Happy tapped his steering wheel too hard, “it’s getting late. I believe it when you say you’re feeling better, but you’re rushing things. You don’t need to rush things.”

“It’s not train tracks, please.”

“Kid." Happy made the turn, but he was taking a deep breath preparing to argue further. 

“Could you pull over?”

“Why? Why? Are you sick? Are you going to be sick?”

“No, just stop. Just stop for a second.”

Happy pulled the car over. They both sat in silence for several moments. Peter slipped Edith on long enough to see the word 'Real' appear and then he hung the glasses carefully from his shirt collar. Peter knew that Happy deserved some kind of explanation. It was just hard. 

“My uncle died over there.” Peter was not specific with the direction. He motioned back the way they had come. “May doesn’t come down here. Sometimes, as Spiderman, I swing by. I don’t stop.”

“Peter…”

“I’m sorry. I just- I wanted to tell you..."

_Talk. Tell him. It will help. _

"I feel like I keep lists in my head. I have a list of things that have happened and there is a list of places I don’t go. Places my parents took me when I was really little. May and I don’t go out to eat at places that the three of us used to go. I don’t come down this street anymore. I can’t go to the Avengers compound anymore, it’s all messed up, but even if it wasn’t, I don’t know if I could go there.” Peter stopped himself from biting his lip. “So, with the trains- I just don’t want to add more to that list.” Peter finally looked up at Happy. He expected the man to look overwhelmed, but Happy was just staring, waiting and listening. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”

Happy took a deep breath. He finally shut the car off and turned towards Peter as much as he could with his seat belt still around him.

"We can sit here as long as you want." Happy took an exaggerated breath and Peter remembered to force his lungs into action. "But, kid, I gotta tell you, you know you don’t have to work through any of this right now, right? You can take some time. You don’t need to force yourself.”

Peter fought back the urge to check in with Edith again.

“I don’t like being scared. I don't _like_ having lists."

“I know, kid. I know.”

Peter thought about everything that had happened. All the fighting and the pain and the death that followed him along so eagerly. And when he looked back out the passenger window, he felt more angry than scared.

“Look, Peter-”

Peter opened the door with a snap, he ignored Happy as he called out after him.

_Hang onto that._

Harley's words came back to him, though he wasn't sure what to do with them. He had started to walk back, back to where his uncle-

Peter turned back around. No. This was too close. Too close and too much. In that moment, he wanted to find train tracks. He wanted to prove he could do something. Take something off his stupid list.

He felt like his insides were crawling, he thought he might be able to outrun the feeling, but Happy had climbed out of the car and was watching, trying to see what Peter would do.

Peter was breathing and he wasn't panicking, but something on his face must have scared Happy, because the man walked around the car, his arms opening.

“Peter, stop. Just stop.” It was a plea and Peter could see the way Happy was trying to keep him together. Peter took the last few steps forward and collapsed into Happy’s arms, he was hoping the contact would make his skin feel less like it was somehow suffocating him. It didn’t help much.

_Hang onto that._

He was trying. God, he was trying.

He was struggling not to cry into Happy’s shirt and the man was patting his back.

“Peter, please. It’s enough. You’re doing enough.” Happy squeezed his shoulders. "You asked what Tony would have thought of it, Peter, he would have understood. He had nightmares, he was scared, but he also was able to make peace with a lot of it. But it took years. It took so long and you know what?"

Peter shook his head.

"He did better when he wasn't alone. You're not alone, alright?"

"But I don't like worrying everyone. I just want to get better." Peter’s voice was strained by withheld tears and muffled by Happy’s shoulder. The glasses that still hung from his shirt collar, were being pressed hard into his chest, near his heart.

"Time, you need to give it time. Alright?"

Peter’s grip loosened and he nodded. Feeling embarrassed, he wiped the few stray tears from his cheeks. He wished he would stop breaking down like that. Neither of them spoke again, until they were back in the car.

"Pete, I really think you should talk to someone. Someone who is trained to help you out."

Peter grimaced.

"I think it would help."

Peter ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed deeply, quieting down the urge to check in with Edith. 

"I'll think about it." Peter looked away, not meeting Happy's eyes. 

Happy drove him home without another word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter is almost there. There should only be one chapter left, but there might be two, depending on what my mind does. Next part may be a wait. I'm not sure honestly. Please do comment! Comments help keep me afloat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a wait, but it got done. Also, I went back and read the last chapter and caught a lot of my mistakes and made it a teeny bit better. It's strange, I can tell how sleep deprived I was when I wrote that. I've slept a bit more now and I hope you enjoy the last chapter of what was supposed to originally be a 5k word fic. Thank you all and enjoy.

The thing was… the thing was Peter had been to therapy before. Three separate times in his life already, in fact. And he felt like that should have been enough. When he remembered, he could use the techniques that he had already learned. As long as he didn't slip too far away, as long as he didn't panic, he could be okay.

Weeks had gone by since his stay with Pepper, Harley and Morgan. He could be okay.

Really okay. Really.

Happy took him to school most days, sometimes May did. He didn't have to worry about the subway. Edith had train schedules for him, but he had started to memorize all the ones closest to him. He could avoid them.

But.

But he knew Spiderman couldn't do that. Spiderman needed to be able to function. He needed to draw a line. If he could keep all of Peter Parker's trauma separate from Spiderman, then he could still do the things he needed to do.

So Peter uploaded Edith to his suit.

And he started to work through it.

He'd find buildings within hearing range of tracks. And then he would move closer and closer.

_You're feeling okay. Hang onto that. _

A train went by and it shook his ledge.

_Deep breath. Move closer. Stop. Wait. Breathe. It's gone now. Move closer._

He stayed out till curfew and then he would swing home. He was careful not to worry May or do anything to cause Happy to track him down again.

At school, Flash had been leaving him alone, but Peter heard him complaining about the lack of Spiderman sightings recently. And he wasn't the only one. With his nights practicing his own exposure therapy, instead of swinging around doing good, people were starting to notice that Spiderman had been laying low.

"Don't worry about it," Ned had said as they walked to class. Peter shrugged. He had been doing that a lot lately and he only just realized why Harley had responded with that action so much. He wasn't admitting to not being fine and he was able to give the appearance of a kind of aloofness. He knew Ned and MJ saw through it. Ned knew him too well and MJ had a close eye on him always.

Happy had said not to rush. But he _needed _to be better.

Spiderman needed to be better.

So he picked a night that May would be working late. Happy was out of town, handling some business with Ms. Potts. It was a Friday night, so there was no school in the morning. After dark, he slipped on his suit and made his way to his predetermend destination. 

The tracks were there, Edith was speaking quietly, it was time to push.

He took slow steps until he came upon the tracks. Not giving himself time to overthink, he stepped up and moved along the metal rails, counting steps in his head as he went. His heart rate stayed down, his breathing was even, though a little shallow. He was facing it.

He had time. Lots of time before the next train. So he could walk, drift along while his feet stuck a little with each step. A familiar pain crept up his side, radiating out from his hip.

_Don't slip under..._

_That's not real._

Something slipped out of place.

The world moved slowly around him and he… Peter Parker floated off somewhere above it all. He watched Spiderman progress slowly, waiting for the hint of a train.

Edith would tell him when to move. He trusted her more than himself after all.

"Peter, your temperature has dropped. I recommend moving elsewhere."

"Not a school night, don't have to go yet," Spiderman replied distantly.

"The next train is scheduled to arrive in 20 minutes."

He hummed in his throat. Plenty of time. Spiderman walked on, losing count of the steps.

"Should I call someone?"

"Don't want to wake anyone." Spiderman had stopped moving.

"May Parker is still on shift-"

"Don't bother May."

Several minutes went by, he could feel the distant rumbling through his feet.

This was brave, right? Waiting to move?

Could he still move?

His legs felt stuck. He hadn't had trouble controlling his powers in ages, but now his feet were firmly planted on the railing, sticking to the surface. The familiar pain from his hip spread all the way up his side. It didn't feel so distant anymore. Spiderman froze.

There was a rumbling in his head. It was so loud and it was going to shake him apart.

And then...

"You gotta say something, man."

Peter blinked. Who…?

"You can't have Edith call me and then not talk."

"Edith?" Peter croaked the word out, frail and pained sounding.

"Harley Keener does not sleep or have an occupation."

"Ah, I'm not sure if I should be offended. Peter, what's going on? Edith says you're in distress."

Peter bit his lip, and he hated himself for it because he hadn't been doing that lately.

"A train. There's a train coming," Peter whispered.

"Where are you?" It sounded like Harley was pacing.

"Tracks."

"Tracks… are you on the tracks?"

Peter was nodding.

_He can't see you. Say something._

"Stuck."

There was a long pause. Harley was breathing too loudly on the line. _He should slow down_, Peter thought absently.

"Jesus, Peter. Hang on."

"I'm okay." Came the familiar automatic response.

"Okay, yeah. Friday, can you help me with Peter?"

"Yes."

"Holy shit, you answered. Okay, great. Uh, Code: Itsy Bitsy, Emergency Protocol: I Need an Adult, Subroutine: Jumper."

"Yes, Mr. Keener."

"Great. Hey Peter, still there?"

_Uh huh._

"Can you move to a safer place?"

Peter pulled in a breath, intending to use it for speech.

Silence.

"That's all the answer I needed."

He was pretty sure Harley was still talking, but Peter became focused on trying to move.

_Unstick your stupid foot and step away. Just move. Just move. Come on._

Peter lost time.

He wasn't sure what he was seeing, but he could hear the train, feel the vibrations in his feet. Closer, closer. He felt that familiar panic settling in. He let it. Tried to redirect it so that his body's flight response would kick in.

_If you don’t move, it’s going to hurt. Like last time. _

With a frantic jarring, his feet finally unstuck and he stumbled off the rail.

The fact that a golden light sparked in his peripheral didn't make any sense.

He heard a loud sigh and then an unfamiliar hand was on him. Peter froze and tried to dig his heels into the gravel.

"Oh, for the- Don't do that."

He knew that voice. The first voice he had heard when he had come back. Peter was trying to talk, to apologize, but nothing was coming out of his mouth now.

"Take a breath."

Peter sucked in a gasp of air and then he was knocked to the side. The world tipped.

In an instant, the train tracks were gone and he was sprawled out inside a well lit room, on a hardwood floor. He took another gasping breath. He didn't know where he was. This was new and foreign and maybe not even real.

"Edith?" He clawed desperately at the floorboards.

"Peter, this is not an illusion." Edith brought up his location. He was still in New York, at least.

"Don't scratch the floor. Can you sit up?"

He knew Strange. But they weren't friends. This didn't seem to make sense.

"Take off the mask and just breathe." The man was standing over him with his arms folded, looking intimidating and genuinely irritated.

"Sir- Doctor Strange, I'm sorry." Peter was scrabbling to get up. He made it to the nearby staircase and pulled himself onto the first step. Peter ripped off the mask and gulped in huge lungfuls of air. Without warning, Strange's fingers found his neck and Peter barely managed to stop himself from jolting away, realizing the man was taking his pulse.

"It's too fast." Strange let his hand drop. "Or.. what is your normal resting heart rate, Parker?"

"I have a- I have a regular resting heart rate." Edith had certainly shown him enough times that he knew what was supposed to be normal.

"Fine," Strange straightened up. "Take a few minutes and calm down. Then I will take you home. Your aunt is being notified."

"My aunt, she can't- she's working."

"I am not a babysitter. And you need to be watched."

"I don't need to be watched." Peter tried to stand, but he only succeeded in propelling himself up another step.

"Evidence points to the contrary." It didn't really look right with his whole wizard attire, but Strange pulled out a cell phone and began texting. The man seemed like he was going to ignore him, but Peter wanted to explain.

"I wasn't trying to do anything. God, I know how it looks, but I just got stuck. I'm not- I'm not suicidal."

Strange's eyes flicked to him and back to his phone without a word.

"I just froze up, but I don't want to die. I really don't. I-"

Strange gave him such a sharp look then that Peter felt the rest of his words smother in his throat.

"If the result is your demise, then does your original intent matter?"

Peter blinked. He told himself not to bite his lip.

"I wouldn't have died if it hit me," Peter finally managed to choke out.

There was silence in the room. Peter stared hard at the floor as he tapped his knuckles together, endlessly fidgeting.

There was a rustling and a heavy weight settled on Peter's shoulders. He jumped at the contact, but, luckily, his senses weren't going haywire and as soon as the cloth wrapped around him, he felt a great deal safer. Similar to when he wrapped himself in his comforter at home.

Doctor Strange's cloak was such an odd thing. Peter only spared Strange a glance and, judging by the surprise on the man's face, the cloak had acted without his consent. It weighed down on Peter, securing his arms as if giving him an embrace.

"Thanks," Peter mumbled. Strange drew in a long breath through his nose. He shook his head, as though disagreeing with some stray thought. He then sat down on the steps beside Peter. There was a decent amount of space between them, but Peter appreciated the effort to appear comforting. Even though they weren't friends, he still trusted Strange.

"Listen," the man finally started speaking. "I am not that kind of doctor. I collected you tonight because Stark's system has my contact information and I have the quickest means of travel, I do not intend on being your therapist."

"Sorry," Peter mumbled automatically.

"I'm not looking for an apology, just listen. I didn't know Stark well. So I don't know what he would have told you in this situation, but I know you were important to him. I saw it. I saw it in every possible outcome. Your fate, whatever it was, it was a driving force behind his actions. Always."

"That's… that's…" Peter nodded, bit his quivering lip. "Thank you. It's just- I- I wasn't on the tracks because of Mr. Stark. I was just trying to face something." Peter wrapped his arms around his middle. "It didn't work out."

"In that case, talk to your aunt. You seem to have quite a few people willing to help you. Let them. Pushing people away is always the more difficult road." Strange absently held out a hand in front of him. Peter saw the scars, the way the man's fingers shook. He had noticed before, but it was rude to stare or ask about it, so Peter kept his mouth shut.

Decisively, Strange stood up and the cloak left Peter, wrapping around the doctor's shoulders once more.

"Can you stand?" Strange was looking off into the distance, as if he was studying something far away.

Peter nodded and pushed himself to his feet. His knees felt weak and he didn't know there was a problem until Strange had grabbed his elbow to keep him upright.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah," Peter answered without hesitation. It was just his adrenaline crashing, he'd managed through that plenty of times.

Strange let go of him and moved his hands, doing that sparkly thing that Peter didn't understand. And, just like that, there was a portal to Peter's apartment.

"Your aunt will be home in a few minutes. Will you be alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." Peter nodded again. "Thank you."

"Good luck, Parker."

The portal closed and Peter was alone.

* * *

Peter had already changed out of his suit and into his pajamas before he slipped the glasses on and realized he wasn't as alone as he thought.

"You alright?" Came the voice out of seemingly nowhere.

Peter jumped and nearly flung Edith off his face. "Oh my god, Harley." He took three quick breaths before straightening up. "Have you been on the line this whole time?"

"Uh… kind of?"

"Harley, man, come on." Peter sighed and scratched his fingers along his scalp.

"I wasn't listening to everything, okay? I was just waiting until you got somewhere safe. And I don't know that weird guy that Friday had to call for you. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Alright, sorry. You just surprised me." Peter let out another long sigh. The line went quiet as he took in several deep breaths.

"I wasn't trying to listen in, really."

"I know."

"Friday is saying your aunt's ETA is five minutes. Is it okay if I stay on the line until she gets there?"

Peter really didn't need to be watched. He really didn't. But he didn't actually feel like being alone either. He felt shaky and exhausted. There was a pit eating away in his stomach and he figured it would be better to pass the next few minutes with someone than to just sit on the couch and anxiously await May's arrival.

"Yeah, that's fine." Peter sunk down onto his mattress and he flopped backwards onto his pillow. He swallowed thickly. "Sorry about everything. I didn't mean to worry you or anyone."

"Yeah, fair warning. Happy and Pepper know. Happy is talking to your Aunt on the phone right now. Pepper is waiting to hear back from me."

"I'm sorry, tell her I'm fine, please. God, I didn't mean to wake her."

"She was awake. She stays up pretty late sometimes."

“Oh.” Peter didn’t have anything to say to that.

They both went quiet and Peter could hear Harley breathing carefully.

"I'm sorry about everything,” Peter finally mumbled.

Harley actually laughed. It sounded empty, but it was there.

"Man, I _know _you are. You apologize more than anyone I've ever met."

Peter bit back another apology. "I just don't like causing problems for other people. And I feel like I always do."

"Helping you tonight wasn't a problem.” Harley sighed. “I mean, I wish you were actually doing okay, but you're not causing me any problems."

"I _am _doing okay."

Harley scoffed. "Yeah, me too."

The line went silent once more and Peter wondered if Harley was upset. Peter couldn’t hear him breathing.

“Thank you for helping me,” Peter spoke quietly. He didn’t know what the right thing to say was, but in the end, he just wanted Harley to be okay too.

“You’re welcome.” Harley breathed out. “Friday says you’ve got about 20 seconds before your aunt gets there.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll tell Pepper you’re safe.”

“Thanks.” Peter sat up in his bed. “Tell her I’m sor- tell her thank you for me.”

“You got it.”

After the call ended, Peter felt a weight drop back on his shoulders. May was going to be upset. He held his breath, counted away the last few seconds before the door to the apartment snapped open.

May was a flurry of movement, throwing her purse to the side and calling for Peter as soon as she had gasped in the breath to do so. She sounded like she was fighting down panic and Peter could hear the way she stepped quickly through the apartment, searching out his location.

Peter sucked in a shaky breath and stood up from the bed.

"I'm here. I'm okay. I'm not hurt." Peter took one step out of his room before he was being pulled into a fierce hug.

"What is going on? I got a call from- from Friday and then from Happy about you being in danger."

"I'm fine, May."

She stepped back and held him at arm's length, studying his face. "You need to talk to me."

Peter nodded, but he pulled his lip between his teeth and didn't speak. May shook her head.

"Happy says you triggered a self-endangerment protocol." May took in a deep breath. She tapped his chin lightly to remind him not to bite down on his lip. "You need to talk to me. You need to talk to me right now."

"It was an accident. I swear, May. I wasn't trying to hurt myself."

She nodded, but she kept drawing in long breaths through her nose, trying to stay calm.

"I wouldn't do that. I swear," he added. He wanted to be clear, just as she wouldn't want to leave him, he didn't want to leave her either.

"Happy said something." Another breath. "Something about lists. He said you should talk to me about the lists. What is that, Peter?"

Peter felt his eyes go wide and a part of him retreated. He hadn't wanted to tell her, he knew she would feel bad, like she should have known and she should have been helping him this whole time.

"Nothing." The walls went up. He didn't want to hurt her, she did so much for him.

May was blinking back tears. And then, without warning, they were spilling over.

He quit breathing and froze, he expected her to turn away, to cover her face. She didn't like crying in front of him. He knew that.

May gripped his shoulders tighter, she looked him in his eyes.

"Hey, you don't need to protect me. You don't need to." She was shaking her head. "You don't have to tell me, but don't you dare keep things to yourself because you're trying to spare me pain." May's hands finally dropped to her sides. "I can still help you, but you have to let me, Peter. Please."

He swallowed around the tightness in his throat. He felt tears building in his eyes and he wanted to swipe them away, but Edith was there and he might displace her with the action.

He needed Edith. Edith who had remained silent throughout the whole exchange; wasn't even displaying his heart rate in the corner anymore. He needed Edith. To tell him what was real. To tell him what he could trust.

But.

May was crying. And he was always looking at her through a lens, through blue tinted frames. Because he always had to be sure. He always had to check. He had to-

"You know I love you, right? You know that?" May's voice trembled and for once in her life, she looked unsure.

Peter shut his eyes and his own tears finally spilled over, running down his face. With shaking hands, he slipped the glasses from their place and he nodded. He knew. Of course he knew.

He wrapped his arms around his aunt and buried his face in her shoulder.

"I love you, kiddo. I love you so much."

Peter's response was quiet and his voice shook hard, but he managed to push out the words.

"I know. I know."

With one last shuddering breath, he let everything out.

He spent that night talking. He told May everything that he had been thinking about. Some thoughts which had been circulating his head for years, growing, taking up space, suffocating him. And she listened and when she told him it was going to be alright, he nodded.

The glasses sat untouched on their coffee table, he didn't need to check.

This was real.

* * *

Piece by piece, Peter was putting things back together. He agreed to therapy, as long as Edith went with him. Just because he didn't need Edith when he was with his friends and family so much anymore, it didn't mean he didn't need her some of the time. She cleared the therapist that Happy approved of and, during sessions, she stayed on, monitoring the room for any changes.

He liked the therapist enough, but his progress was so painstakingly slow, it didn't feel like he was moving forward at all.

It was frustrating to say the least.

It was early December when he told May he wanted to quit.

"Is it because it's not helping or is it because of Christmas?"

They didn't really talk about it, but the holidays were such a weird time. They always managed to have a good time together, but underneath it all was that sadness of loss that coursed through everything. And this year, he had more loss than before.

But.

Happy was going to spend part of Christmas day with them and Pepper had invited Peter up to visit during winter break. She said Harley would be visiting for the new year too and Morgan was so excited to give him a present she had been working on…

It was strange, to have such a large and small family at the same time.

"I can keep trying."

Peter agreed to a few more sessions to carry him through to the new year.

* * *

During the holidays, when anyone asked how he was doing, he said he was fine. Even though he felt like he was the same and he still avoided tracks and he still had lists. And it didn't feel like progress.

But he was out on patrol when it finally happened.

He was swinging through the city late on a cold night right after Christmas, when he caught the cry of a woman being mugged.

He reacted without needing to think, webbed up the mugger, returned the lady's purse. But they had hit her and she was crying and bleeding. So he sat with her on the freezing curb and let her hold his hand.

He didn't realize why the ground was shaking until the nearby train had already gone past.

He hadn't heard it coming, hadn't sensed it as a danger.

He breathed out and closed his eyes. Relief flooded him. It was already gone. His heart rate remained steady.

"It's going to be okay," Peter whispered, his breath creating white puffs around his mask in the biting cold air.

"Thank you," the woman gasped.

Peter waited with her until the police arrived.

* * *

It was the second to last day of winter break when Peter decided he was ready.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Harley says Morgan's going to be attending school again. So I figure you'll probably have to drive her around. I have to be able to do it."

"You don't have to, kid." Happy was being cautious and Peter didn't blame him. The man had been dealing with Peter's ups and downs for months now.

"I want to try. May already said she would come with, but I thought having another person there that I know- I thought it would be good." Because it was okay to rely on people sometimes. People cared and they wanted to help him.

"Alright, Peter. We'll try it out."

They cared so much.

* * *

Peter's plan was simple. When he was out, he had been slowly creeping towards the edges of his safe zone. As Spiderman, he had come across tracks and trains and the subway and it was getting easier. Some days, he felt too tired and he was worn out before the day began. On those days, he stayed away.

Things were getting better, but he had one thing he wanted to accomplish before going back to school. And he didn't feel like he was forcing it.

He felt ready.

Waiting to board the subway was such a normal thing. May had suggested they go when it was a bit quieter, but Peter said he didn't mind the people. He wanted it to be crowded and noisy because last time- last time it had just been him in an empty space. So they had gone in the afternoon. There wasn't a destination in mind. The goal was to just get on and ride until the next stop.

Easy.

If he could manage to step on.

Several trains had gone by and Peter stayed wedged between May and Happy. Both adults wanted to suggest trying a different day, but Peter's feet were planted and Edith was running through train schedules quietly in the background. He was ready to do this. He just needed time to get used to the sounds, to get used to being close to that much shrieking metal and gusts of stale air that came with the train as it shuddered to a stop in front of him.

He lost count of how many went by before he finally nodded.

"Next one."

May put a hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezed. He exhaled, allowing his shoulders to droop with the action. He hadn't realized how tense he was.

A moment went by and then there was that gust of wind and metal screeching to a stop and then doors were sliding open in front of him. Without any more thinking, he stepped in. May and Happy were right there with him. May and Peter found a seat while Happy stood closer to the door, keeping watch on everything.

Edith informed him that his heart rate had picked up. He took several deep breaths, felt May pressing into his shoulder, her presence familiar and radiating concern for him. Peter leaned into that.

The lights flickered ever so slightly and, for a brief moment, Peter was on the other side of the world, with the darkness and light flashing as the train moved through the tunnel.

He drew in a long breath, told himself it didn't hurt to do so.

May set her hand on top of his. He had warned her to be careful, that sometimes he didn't know his own strength. She carefully brushed her thumb over his knuckles. "Almost there," she encouraged. As if responding to her words, the train began to slow and a few seconds later the doors were sliding open. Peter stood and exited calmly. There was no frantic escape, no all encompassing fear. May and Happy stayed close, an enduring presence at his side.

He was okay.

Relief flooded through him and some of that crushing weight that he had been carrying around, lifted.

"Peter, do you require any assistance?" Edith chirped in his ear.

Peter smiled. Soft and relieved.

"No, I'm good Edith."

* * *

Something made him wake with a start. He wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or not. He reached over to his desk, shaking fingers finding the glasses in the dark.

The frames lit up and he squinted in the sudden light. Edith greeted him readily and began bringing up his vitals. 'Real' flashed in the corner.

"No, that's okay Edith. I know."

"How can I assist you?"

"I'm okay right now, just a little anxious."

Peter swung his feet out of his bed. He stepped on something soft and quickly bent over to retrieve the item. It was a teddy bear that Morgan, with a lot of help from Pepper and Harley, had made him for Christmas. It was plain, except for the bow around its neck and the button on its chest that played a recorded greeting when pressed. Despite Morgan showing him how to record a new message, he kept the original greeting, which was just Morgan shouting 'Merry Christmas, Peter!' at the top of her little lungs.

Careful not to disrupt the quiet, he set the bear down on his pillow, his fingers brushed along the soft fur and he let out a sigh. He was probably too old to take comfort in the item, but he liked having it close all the same.

"Hey Edith?" Peter whispered.

"Yes, Peter?"

"Thank you. Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome, Peter." Came the quick reply. Peter smiled gently.

With a stretch, he stood and, stifling a yawn, he crept from the room. He was just going to get a glass of water and go back to bed. He was sure that the short excursion would be enough for any lingering nerves to settle.

He was in the kitchen when he felt a pair of eyes on him. Peter spun around, startled.

"It's me. Just me." His aunt held up both of her hands as though she was approaching a scared animal. When Peter didn't react negatively she gave him a small smile. "Bad dream?"

Peter shrugged. "I guess. What about you?"

"Couldn't sleep yet." May moved to the fridge. "Want a snack? Or I could make hot chocolate?"

Hot chocolate had been one of his favorite beverages growing up. It was his ultimate comfort drink.

"Hot chocolate sounds good."

He tried to help, but she waved him off and told him to sit down. He was tracing scratches in their kitchen table, lost in thought when she placed a warm mug in front of him. She took the seat across from him and let out a long sigh. They sat silently for a moment before May cleared her throat.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Peter set his mug back down. "Not much to talk about. I don't remember most of it."

"Was it something about the trains though?"

Peter shrugged. "Probably."

May hummed as she took another long drink from her own mug.

"I guess-" Peter scratched the back of his head. "It's just frustrating. I thought I was doing better."

"You are."

"But I'm still having nightmares. And I-" Peter motioned towards his face, to the glasses still perched on his nose. "I still use Edith. Not as much as before, but I still do."

May pursed her lips as she tapped her fingers against her mug. When she began speaking again she spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"I think you are doing very well, but I think it's harder for you to see that. I can see improvement, even if you can't. The fact that you had a nightmare and you and I are just talking right now and you're not sick over it; that's an improvement."

Peter was shaking his head, but May kept talking.

"I know sometimes you feel like you're not moving forward, but you are. And even if you slip back a little, it's okay. It's going to be okay. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because," May scoffed, "you're the most amazing kid in the entire world."

"May…" Peter rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious. My boy is the best. I'm very lucky."

In a lot of ways, Peter did not consider either of them to be lucky. They had both been through a lot. Too much. He had lost a lot and so had she. But he had so many people who loved him. Some of those people were gone, but there were a lot who were still here. And, while he hadn't begun his life as May's kid, he was irrefutably hers.

And, he supposed, if he still had people that loved him like that, maybe he was very lucky after all.

"Love you, May."

"I love you too."

They finished their drinks and Peter went back to bed. He slept peacefully for the rest of the night, with one hand gently laid across his stuffed bear's chest.

* * *

The weather had started to warm up.

And he was running late.

Well, not officially late, but he was cutting it close. He was supposed to be at school earlier, meeting up for a last study session before their big physics test, but he had just lost track of time. He rushed aboard the subway train among the morning commuters. He spent the short trip texting out apologies to Ned and MJ. When he finally reached his stop he rushed off, briskly walking the last few blocks to his school.

It was only when he had entered the school building that he realized he had left Edith in the glasses case in his bag. He hadn't even felt inclined to check in with her. And, now that he had thought about it, he had taken the train all this week without any trouble at all. Not a single accelerated heart beat or moment of panic.

"Oh," Peter breathed out.

Peter's list had grown shorter without him being aware of it.

He would have continued spacing out in the hallway over it, but his friends quickly found him and they ushered him away to the library. Ned was walking alongside him, casually bumping his elbow as he went. MJ slipped her hand into his and he squeezed her fingers gently.

"You okay?" She whispered.

"Yeah," Peter breathed out. "I'm good."

Peter walked down the hall with his friends. Two people who cared about him so much. So much that he didn't know how he had gotten so lucky to have them. They were warm and they radiated with the love and care they had for him.

And he knew, without question, that it was real.

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About 19k more words than it was originally supposed to be, but I think it went okay. 
> 
> Thank you all for your encouragement as I stumbled into this fandom for the first time and tried my best. I have one or two more ideas for Spiderman fics, but I'm going to take my time with them. School is about to get really busy, but I still want to carve out a little time to write. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who commented and supported me. Please do stop by in the comment section once more and say hello/bye for now. I really do like having little chats with you all. 
> 
> You could also find me on tumblr under the name banditywrites.


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